


They Almost Got Away With It

by the_three_trenchcoat_wearers



Series: You're A Good Listener [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Gore, M/M, Serial Killer Dean Winchester, Serial Killers, Stockholm Syndrome, acts of rape, also fluffy, be careful, i'll think of them later, lots of triggers, seriously kinda messed up, there are more - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-04-01 10:24:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13996269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_three_trenchcoat_wearers/pseuds/the_three_trenchcoat_wearers
Summary: **PLEASE READ THE FIRST IN THE SERIES- You're A Good Listener***I promise it explains SOO much***This is an alternative ending to the first one. What if Castiel hadn't been found so early? What if the Winchesters had kept him hidden for years? What if...?**This time they wouldn’t ever find a way to escape. He knew this. He knew that he would never see Dean, or even the big puppy-dog like Sam, again. But he remained silent as the cops removed the boys from his life. He flinched as something touched his shoulder. As he looked back, he had the fleeting hope that it would be Dean, that he hadn’t just been tossed into the backseat of a cop car. But instead, he came face to face with a deputy.“Come on son, let’s get you out of here.” Castiel had learned to behave well while he was with Dean, but he couldn’t go with the police. He had spent the past four years running from them after all. He knew that he should trust the men and women in blue, but all he wanted was the man with the emerald green eyes and a heavy leather jacket.





	1. PROLOGUE

**Author's Note:**

> I FINALLY updated it!! I know that it took forever, but I literally have SO much of this left to write. This is just part one of who knows how many pieces this will be. At least one more, if not two. So anyways, those of you who are familiar with me, and those who are new, thanks for putting up with the mistakes in my work. I don't have a beta so everything that you see is what you get.

**16 September 2014**

**MISSING WINCHESTERS HAVE CLAIMED ANOTHER VICTIM**

_**The Winchester brothers had escaped from their holding cells at the local jail while awaiting transport to their permanent destination of the Kansas State Penitentiary, more formally known as Lansing Correctional Facility. Sources who wish to remain anonymous have concluded that the brothers had inside help as to their escape, as found through a crude key made of steel that had obviously been quickly forged. Authorities are on the trail of the person(s) who helped in the escape. Security cameras had been disabled in the separate cell blocks that they were being held. Conclusive evidence has shown that the brothers also had outside help in their escape. Orange jumpsuits had been ditched in a dumpster approximately two miles north of the prison, indicating that other clothing had been provided. Evidence is still inconclusive as to how communications were made between the inmates and those helping in the escape, but sources say that a correctional officer had been befriended by the brothers.** _

_**FBI special agent, Victor Henriksen, is leading the manhunt of the Winchesters and was the one to bring them to custody at the gas station where the brothers had been originally apprehended. Henriksen, who has over twenty (20) years of service under his belt, has been quoted as saying, "Sam and Dean are not the typical suspects at large. They are one another's Bonnie and Clyde. Dangerous, and suspected of being armed as in regards to their criminal past. Be advised that should you come into contact with said suspects, you are NOT to approach or become involved with them. We have orders to shoot them on site, and any person or persons suspected of aiding their escape." Henriksen has ordered his agents to be on around-the-clock vigilance of anybody looking even remotely like the men at large.** _

_**Outside sources have noted that a young man matching the last known identities of the Wincher's fascination has gone missing in the local area. Named Castiel Novak, he is an 18-year-old male, dark brown/black hair and blue eyes. A wiry frame, 5'11", with an intelligence to make him a challenge for the Winchester brothers. His brothers, Gabriel and Michael, are searching for him. They are lead to believe, along with the support of the theory by local authorities and FBI agent Henriksen, that the Winchesters have found and abducted Castiel. One officer of Castiel's hometown had come back to the precinct, trailing a crushed foot, and a story that would rock the other cop's world.** _

_**He had been en route to a break-in at a nearby apartment complex, where the silent alarm had been triggered. As he was about to check out the scene, a car lurched away from the curb, and sped off, gaining speed by the second. Assuming this was the getaway car of the teenage pranksters that must have been messing around at night, Officer Gleeson- with 15 years of experience, 11 of those years at the Pontiac Precinct- made to follow the car. Within minutes he had pulled the car over for excessive speed; a 1972 AMC Hornet Wagon, license plate number SIKN-TRD. He stated to have seen Dean Winchester, who claimed that 'his buddy had gotten beat up, so he was taking him to the hospital', though the hospital was in the other direction. Dean drove off quickly, taking out the officer as best he could on the way. He noted that the guy in the back was badly injured, and bleeding profusely from several parts of his body. When Castiel Novak was described to the officer, he agreed that it very well could have been the young man.** _

_**Castiel had sat on the jury for the Winchester trial and was apparently sought after by the Winchesters since the first day. Another jury member, Charlie Bradbury, stated that Castiel had become "uncomfortable" in the presence of the brothers for they "watched him like a hawk". She also noted that other jury members had noticed the brother's odd behavior of their addition to watching Castiel. There had been a moment, as reported by a jury member who wished to remain unnamed, that everyone had moved away from Castiel when the brothers mentioned that there was a jury member who looked like the latest victims that they had taken before being captured by police.** _

_**With the evidence presented from multiple sources, the police and FBI have issued an AMBER- ALERT for Castiel Novak, who is believed to be taken by Sam and Dean Winchester. We ask all to keep a vigilant watch for the brothers and for their perceived hostage.** _

 

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"Dude, I thought that you had lost the cops?" Sam's voice echoed through Castiel's quieted mind. There was nothing left for him. No sight. No freedom. Nothing except for the forest floor under his chest and Sam and Dean Winchester guarding his mangled body like lions over a felled wildebeest. His face had landed in a pile of sodden leaves, their musk the only stench forcing its way up Castiel's nose. He had lost the ability to move a while ago, or else he wouldn't have been letting himself suffocate.

"I did! And whatever those are, they aren't cops. I know what cops sound like, and those aren't them," Dean hissed back to his brother, walking somewhere behind Castiel.

"Then what are they?"

"Shit if I know. Grab the kid, we have to run."

"Run where? There's nowhere to go!" Sam called out, twigs snapping under his feet as he moved about. Castiel tracked him through sound, locating him fairly easily.

"Will you keep your voice down? Dammit Sam, if we can hear them then they can hear us!"

"Well, sorry for being concerned that we are about to get caught."

"Do you even have anything with you? Any shotguns, pistols, a bow and arrow? Anything?" Dean pleaded to his brother, groaning as he knelt down by Castiel's limp body.

"Not exactly, Dean. We left the Impala back a way. And no, I am not running there all by myself- wait, I've got your gun!"

"Oh man up, Sam. It's a half mile- why the hell do you have  _my_ gun?"

"Oh hell no. Not with- shit, get down." Branches in the distance broke, a mix of female and male voices cascading through the foliage as they got louder. Closer. Finally, heavy footsteps broke through into the clearing, and thick breaths from a large animal hung prominently over the shallow, startled breathing of the Winchesters. Castiel's own breathing had diminished, leaving what was left of his body feeling numb and cold. Perhaps that was because he could no longer feel anything below his waist.

"Hello? Hi, sorry to bother you. But can you keep your voices down a little bit, we don't want our horses to spook." A female voice stood out in the harsh silence.

"Oh sure, of course. Sorry about that ma'am. Beautiful animal. I've always admired horses."

"Ah... Uhm, is your friend alright?" Another voice broke out of the darkness that was Castiel's world.

"Yeah, he's fine. Just..."

"Sleeping," Sam added quickly.

"Facedown in the muck and leaves?"

"Cassie here is a strange one, I'll tell you what." Dean laughed gently at the conversation, hiding the weakening wheezing coming from their captive.

"Do you mind if I check that he's alright? I'm an officer, I just want to help." The blood pooling underneath Castiel's mouth had begun to solidify, and his feeble heartbeat skipped.

"No! He's alright. Right, Cas?" A solid nudge in his cracked ribs rolled him over, bright white light blinding him as his face arched towards the sky. Leaves. Green and lush hung heavily over him in a thick canopy. A loud gasp emanated from his right, and with a sharp pain on the left side of his head, Castiel was able to roll his eyes over just enough to see horses. People on horses. People with phones and with hearts. His swollen tongue lolled from his mouth as his head fell with gravity, and he could feel the last of his fresh blood dripping from him. "Oh shit," Dean mumbled as the group around them started screaming.

The lady in front, the cop, sat atop a large yellow beast, and he watched in delight as she pulled a pistol from her waist. "Stay where you are. Do  _not_  move." Castiel looked on with unmoving eyes as she led her horse forward towards him, gun aimed presumably towards the elder brother on his other side.

"Sammy," Dean called, voice clear and strong. As always, he was unyielding to the world.

"Dean," Sam replied. His voice warbled for a moment, as though he was swallowing his pride as he spoke. Footsteps behind Castiel got closer, and the gun in the officer's hand began to wobble.

"I said to NOT MOVE!" She roared, the group behind her flinching as she did. One man on a red horse had a cellphone pressed to his ear. Had he believed in a God anymore Castiel would have been praying for this moment. But now, all he wished for, was for the Angel of Death to release his fractured soul from this tormented body. The physical pain was no longer an issue for him, he couldn't feel anything below his armpits at this point. "I will shoot!"

"Shoot the kid. Put the piece of meat out of his misery, then! Use the bullets! Spill blood just as we have. Pull that trigger, and you're no better than I." Dean growled at the officer, footsteps closing in once more. "SHOOT HIM!"

A single blast rang out in the controlled silence surrounding him. Blood from somewhere on his forehead had pooled into his ears, dulling the world. But that shot. That single bullet. After a moment a muffled roar filled his ears, "KELLY! KELLY!" But it was too late. The officer, blurry in his vision, slumped over the neck of her horse, staining it's golden coat a fiery red. She fell, landing heavily on her side. With a great snort, the animal she once sat upon reared onto his hind legs, coming down on either side of her limp body. Other people on other horses hung on for dear life as their animals spooked, turning and running back through the trees. 

Dean leaped over the frozen Castiel towards the fallen woman and rose a moment later with dripping hands painted black. Castiel blinked, his vision clearing just enough to see that his hands weren't red, but really a thick, deep red. The horse she had been riding suddenly reappeared in the trees, it's large head hanging low. It came over to Dean, sniffing his pant leg. Dean placed one bloodied hand on his nose and gently pushed it away. 

Cold fingertips brushed up against Castiel's neck though he couldn't move away from the sudden shock. "He's alive, Dean," Sam called out over his limp body. Castiel saw Dean turn away from the painted war-horse, eyes wide. That was the last of it though, as the final bits of clarity seeped from his vision and melted into muddled darkness.

"There's no way he is."

"I can promise you that there's a pulse in his neck." The pressure on his neck subsided and a branch beside his body groaned as it brushed across crackling leaves on the ground beside his head. 

"Well, what do we do?"

"He's your toy, Dean. You get to finish him."

"You know... I don't think we should." The movement around him paused, leaves shuffling and rubbing up against his face. They stung, just enough to remind him that he was still living. 

"Dean..."

"I told you that he was a fighter the moment we first saw him! Come on, he's probably learned his lesson by now!"

"Learned his lesson?"

"Come on Sam, help me get him to the car."

"You're going to put this slobbering, bleeding, vomiting mess into the trunk of dad's car." 

"Damn right we are."

"Dean!"

"We're going to stick a collar on him-"

"We?"

"- and make him our pet."

"No. He's all yours."

"Good." It wasn't much longer after that that feeling began to return to Castiel's shattered body. First in his arms as pins and needles, then it slowly spread down his spine and legs. The shock of being so badly beaten must have finally worn off, though the incomprehensible actions of the two brothers weren't done. Eyelids glued shut by the blood that had seeped from his head, he felt himself being picked up, hoisted over the shoulder of one brother, and carried off through the trees. Still unable to hear, he could only feel his body swing limply as he was carried for what felt like quite a distance. 

His body tingled and stung from all the wounds that had accumulated, but he was too weak to challenge the dominance the two men had over his lifeless body. He could still breathe- if just barely. He could still think- even if his thoughts were fuzzy. And for one last moment, before he felt himself be dropped into the trunk of a car, all that he could think of was the fact that he was no longer himself. He was a prisoner. A slave. A pet. A toy.

Would he ever be considered  _human_  again?

 

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**13 August 2018**

**_WINCHESTERS IN CUSTODY WITH MISSING VICTIM CASTIEL NOVAK_ **

**A month shy of four years ago, Castiel Novak was reported missing as a potential victim of the infamous Winchester brothers. Today, the claims and allegations that Samuel and Dean Winchester kidnapped Novak have proven to be true**. 

**Found in the heartland of the country, on the edges of the ho-hum town of Sterling, Colorado, Castiel Novak was found and retrived by local police departments and escorted to the hospital in lew of visable injuries, starvation, and possible torture. Local police chief Merle Gardener talked with newspaper reporters on the location of the Winchesters hideout. Nothing more than a brick two story surrounded on three sides by corn fields. "Winchesters, Sam and Dean, have sucessfully been apprehended by county officals. Found with them was 22-year-old Castiel Novak of Pontiac, Illinois. While in good spirits, he has displayed some signs of being traumatized by his experiences with the brothers. He will be taken to Sterling Regional Medical for a full health evaluation. I am not able to comment any more on his situation, and ask the public to respect his privacy."**

**Witnesses at the scene of the apprehension are Danica Hale (31) and Chrissy Kolm (28). Hale said that "Dean, the shorter of the two, was far more intent on seeing that Castiel was safe in the middle of this hectic situation than anything else. It was like he was fixated on the kid!"**

**"Sam fought the entire way, eventually having to be carried out of the house. Dean though- he was so worried that the officers would hurt Castiel. It was terrifying. And Castiel! He was so frightened by the officers around him. Something horrible must have happened for him to be so scared by those who were trying to help him," stated Kolm.**

**Details as to how Novak was found are still hazy, though several report of him being spotted in the area had come in over the past year and a half. Some people have recognized the car of Dean Winchester- a 1967 model Chevrolet Impala, black in color with chrome fixations- noting that it had been spotted a few times in town. The last report of the car was the night before they were apprehended, and a nameless witness said: "I had seen the car pull up next to my friends and I while we were at the drive in. It was dark though, and I couldn't tell for sure. Then I saw the guy in the car- he was so skinny! I thought it looked a little like that Castiel kid who had gone missing, but I just couldn't be sure. Plus, he didn't seem scared or anything when the other guy came back. I wasn't about to ask questions as to why two guys were in a car at the drive in, so I let it be."**

**Local news teams have converged on the location and a press conference is to be held regarding the situation betwwen 24-48 hours into the future. Please check local listings for updated times. No new information has been accessed.**

 


	2. Last Names

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in the court of law. You have the right to consult an attorney before speaking to the police and to have an attorney present during questioning now or in the future. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you before any questioning if you wish. Let’s go, Winchester.” Castiel watched as Dean, his Dean, was being forced into the backseat of a cop car. The flashing blue and red lights were bright in the midnight darkness. He watched as those green eyes, once so full of laughter and kindness, were tucked away behind windows with bars, and a rifle pointed at the back of his head. This time they wouldn’t ever find a way to escape. He knew this. He knew that he would never see Dean, or even the big puppy-dog like Sam, again. But he remained silent as the cops removed the boys from his life. He flinched as something touched his shoulder. As he looked back, he had the fleeting hope that it would be Dean, that he hadn’t just been tossed into the backseat of a cop car. But instead, he came face to face with a deputy.

“Come on son, let’s get you out of here.” Castiel had learned to behave well while he was with Dean, but he couldn’t go with the police. He had spent the past four years running from them after all. He knew that he should trust the men and women in blue, but all he wanted was the man with the emerald green eyes and a heavy leather jacket. The cop behind him gave his shoulder a gentle push, encouraging him forward, but that backfired. In the time that he had spent with Dean and Sam, he had learned not to trust anyone pushing on you, unless you were on your back. So, he acted defensively.

“Hey, back off!” He wheeled around, his elbow colliding with the hard bullet proof vest that the cop was wearing under his blues. Immediately Castiel realised his mistake, dropping to his knees. The soft hum of cops talking behind him halted at once as he dropped to his knees in front of the cop he hit. “Wait, I’m sorry. I- I didn’t mean to.” In a well learned action, he pulled his hands behind his back, lowered his chin to his chest, and looked up from under his eyelashes. The cop above him had absolutely no idea what to do at this point. Castiel could see the confused expression that painted his face.

“Hey, it’s ok. You can get up. Nothing is going to happen to you.” Hesitantly he squatted down on the balls of his feet, to be face to face with the scared man. “It’s OK Castiel. We are here to help you. We are taking away the guys that have been hurting you for the past few years. We are getting you to a safe place. We are here to help you-”

“Help? Really?” He could feel his voice cracking in fear. He looked at the officer, He was older, the hair that showed under his cap was salt and pepper, speckled with grey. He had a goatee that was more grey than brown. But he had kind eyes, a soft brown that most everyone could trust in. Castiel however wasn’t ‘most everyone’. “This isn’t helping. This is- you’re taking me away from the two that have kept me safe for so long. How am I supposed to be OK out there in the world?” Dean had never approved of his voice cracking like this, but when he was this scared, he didn’t have much of a control over his voice.

“We will take care of you. You will still have the chance to talk to them, I promise. But first you have to come with us. We are going to keep you safe. We will make sure that you are safe. So please,” Castiel looked up at the cop, “let us, let me, help you.” The small flicker of trust that ignited in Castiel’s chest was quickly extinguished as he heard Dean’s voice over the sirens and the chatter.

“Cas, you’re good. They’ve got you. But I’ll come back, too. I will.” The voice faded as the cop car pulled away, Castiel’s trust along with it.

“Castiel. He’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore. He’s gone.” That however was what Castiel was afraid of. He slowly brought his hands out from behind his back, lifted his chin from his chest, and looked at the officer.

“I miss him already.” However, even with those words slipping from his mouth, he took the extended hand of the cop, and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. He pulled his hand away from the officer’s though as soon as he up. The cop in front of him didn’t respond to what he had just said, though the look in his eyes was quite enough. He didn’t have to say anything for Castiel to know that what he had said was usually classified as ‘wrong’ in the eyes of most people in society. But how was it wrong to miss someone who had, in all aspects, cared for you for so long? How was it wrong to feel the way he was? He missed the man that had given him all of his time, all of his devotion. Castiel had worshiped the ground that Dean had walked on, and Dean had worshiped right back. He worshiped in the bedroom, he worshiped on his knees, and for the first time in Castiel’s life, he had felt truly loved.

“Come on, Castiel. Let’s get you to the hospital. We’re going to have some doctors look over you and make sure that you are in good condition before we send you home. I have some numbers of family members that we can contact for you if you would like. Is there anyone in particular that you would like us to call for you?” The officer, he still hadn’t read the name tag on his uniform to identify him, led him to the next nearest police car. Opening the back door, Castiel slid in easily. For a moment he had hoped that he would be sharing a cruiser with Dean, even Sam. Unfortunately for him, and fortunately for the cops, he was alone. He had the officer to keep him company, but the only faces that he had seen these past four years had been Dean’s, Sam’s, and sometimes Bobby’s. Even if he could be with Bobby at this point in time would be a relief for him. Who knew if his family would even want him back? It seemed like the Winchester’s, and Singer’s in Bobby’s case, were more loving and supportive of who he wanted to be than his parents had ever been. Even Gabriel had his doubts every once and awhile. He had been the most supportive though through everything. How funny was it that the surrogate father of the two most wanted, now detained, criminals in the entire United States, had been more loving and compassionate that his real father was?

“Castiel? Is there anyone that you would like us to call right away?” The officer, now in the front seat of the cruiser, turned to look back at him before he pulled out on to the road. Castiel, awaked from his thoughts, stared blankly at him. The officer returned a solemn look. He seemed to be trying to say that he felt sorry for Castiel. He just didn’t know the whole truth. There was nothing to be sorry about.

“Gabe, my-my brother. Last I knew he lived somewhere near New York. He, ah, he owned a little bakery called Heavenly Delights, off of 17th. Only him. Don’t tell him what’s happening, just let him knew that he needs to get to-” Castiel looked around him for a moment, at the fields that encircled the beautiful log cabin that he had called home for the past year, three months, 19 days. “Where are we? I never did quite figure that out.” The officer had the audacity to look stunned at the question. Because even though he and Dean had formed some sort of out-of-place bond, of course the captor wouldn’t tell the captive where they were.

“We’re in Colorado. The east side. Just about 13 miles outside of Sterling.”

“Wow, Colorado. I’ve never officially been to Colorado. Well, I guess I have, I just never knew it. Maybe I can go skiing sometime. Maybe if Dean gets put on parole he and I can go skiing.” He let a soft chuckle escape from him. Of course Dean would never be put on parole. He would be in isolation for the remainder of his life. Sam would be in a different prison, but in the same situation. They would never see one another again. He might not even see Dean again.

“Castiel, you wanted me to not tell Gabe something?” Of course the officer would try to distract him from the thoughts running rampant through his mind. He was just about to resume what he was saying when he looked out the window. This was the first time that he had seen the front of the house. He had been allowed to go out the back, but if he ever went to the front, he would get in trouble.

“Yeah. Don’t let him know that you found me. Tell him that there is some sort of business that needs to be taken care of here. Tell him that the former owner of his bakery wants to go over some details of something. Anything. Don’t even hint that I’m here. He will tell my father, and my father will do worse to me than Dean or Sam ever has.” With the controlled anger in his voice, Castiel made it clear that the conversation was over. So the officer turned back in his seat, fastened his seatbelt, started the cruiser, turned on the lights, and pulled out onto the dusty road that had served as the street that Castiel had once called his.

The ride to the local police station wasn’t very long. Even being so far out of town, it was easy to get anywhere. The five stoplights on Main Street stayed green for them, but that was probably because of the technology in the cruiser that kept them green. They turned onto a small road, past a few nicely built houses, and then into the police station. It was hysterical. The police station was right next to the fire station, and both of those were right next to the public library. Well, at least he knew that if the small city ever went up in flames, the books would be safe.

“Here we are, Castiel. The Sterling Police Station.” The officer, who had finally introduced himself as Hayes, turned off the car, got out, and proceeded to open the door for Castiel. Pavement was a feeling that he had all but forgotten. Brick was one that he had to get reused to as well. Glass doors, clear windows, unscuffed floors- how had he forgotten the little details of life so quickly? Hayes guided Castiel through the whitewashed hallways of the station, past half asleep desk people, and past a few potted plants that had begun to curl and brown at the edges.

The room Hayes brought him into was what one would call ‘comfortable’. The carpet was a lot thicker in here than in the rest of the carpeted areas they had walked through. There was an over stuffed, and over used, couch that was a dull green color, and there was a counter where a half empty pot of coffee sat in the coffee maker. Several mugs were lined up upside down next to it. The small table in the middle of the room had a few magazines on it, like the TIMES and PEOPLE. The window, though it was clear glass instead of foggy plexiglass, was darkened. He paused as he caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection.

There had been mirrors at the cabin. However, he hadn’t ever noticed a difference in how he looked. After all, Dean had worshiped him to the point that he never had the need to look at his reflection. He was enough just the way he was. But now, as he saw himself standing next to the slightly shorter, and definitely pudgier, officer, he felt ashamed. How had Dean loved this skeleton of a man? Even from a distance, Castiel could tell that his face was gaunt, his hair coarse and dulled. The shirt that he wore no longer hugged his body, but hung away from it, as though afraid that too much weight would cause this rail thin man to crumble.

“Castiel, I am going to get your brother on the line, and I’ll have him here soon. For now though, we are going to have a social worker talk to you, and a detective. I’ll be back soon.” Castiel followed Hayes with his eyes as he left. He saw the way that his right foot was pointed more towards the inside than the left, giving him a limping waddle of a walk. How he had ever become a policeman amazed him.

Slowly, now that he didn’t have the weight on another human pressing in around him, Castiel took a breath. Crossing his arms over his chest, he held back a tear that threatened to spill over the rim of his eye. He could count his ribs. How had he not noticed that before? He knew that they didn’t always have a lot to eat, but Castiel had never felt hungry. Now though, he felt starved. Not just for food, but starved for the affection of the man who had been hauled away in cuffs, a gun pointed at his back as he made his way from the cabin. It had taken everything in Castiel to not run to him. But he knew that if he had made a move towards those officers at all that Dean would be in pain. Sam, who had been in the basement, would also be in pain. Well, he already was. Castiel had heard a taser go off not too long before they found Dean, and they both had heard Sam call out in pain. Castiel remembered Dean pulling him close to his chest, making sure that he knew that he was loved. Just as Dean had planted a kiss to the top of his head, the door had burst open. Three men, dressed in black and carrying heavy looking guns, had broken open their door. Popped their little safety bubble. Knocked over their pillow fort. Whatever you wanted to call it, Castiel had fought for Dean’s hands as they pushed him into the floor. Dean had called to him, begging him to stay there. Dean had called out in pain as one of the officers, or whoever they were, pushed the barrel of his gun into Dean’s back. He had nearly been shot as he watched another officer enter the room, and drag the screaming, crying Castiel away from him.

“Castiel?” Thrown back into reality, he didn’t realise that there was now a woman standing in front of him. Unaware of what was happening, Castiel took a step back. He felt a tear slide down his face and he rushed to wipe it away. The woman, a professional looking woman in an expensive pinstriped suit, handed him a tissue from what seemed thin air. He hadn’t seen the box earlier that sat on the other side of the coffee pot. He sniffed the memory away.

“That’s me.” How obvious was that? The woman had her hair wrapped up behind her head in a tight ponytail. As it swayed back and forth, it didn’t seem to be very long.

“My name is April Kelly. I am a social worker that was brought in because of the, severity of this case.” She was thin, though not like Castiel. Her blonde hair was thin as well. She extended a hand to the couch, offering Castiel a place to sit. With his arms still folded in front of him, he made his way to the far side of the couch. April sat on the other end, making sure that there was plenty of space between them. This obviously wasn’t her first rodeo. She wanted to make sure that he didn’t feel like a trapped animal.

“So, Castiel, I want to tell you a few things about myself before I ask you anything. I want you to know that I am human, that I am real, that I am here to help you. I won’t ask for any information without giving you any, ok?” Her bland smile offered no comfort to Castiel, though he nodded in agreement. Best to get this over with. “Alright. I have a Bachelor's Degree in Social Work and Psychology. I have a beautiful husband and two daughters. I grew up in Northern Florida, and moved to Chicago when I was 13. When I was 19 I attended CSU and got my degrees there. I have a small dog named Casey that I got from the pound.” Castiel, not entirely sure of where this was going, just sat back and listened.

“Now Castiel, I have told you a few things about my life. I would like to ask you a few things about yours.” He nodded in compliance, but he didn’t really want to share anything with her. “If you don’t want to answer a question, you don’t have to. Just say ‘pass’ or ‘next question’ or whatever you would like, just so that you don’t have to answer it.” He nodded again. He wasn’t afraid to speak. He was afraid that his voice would betray him. Betray that he was much more scared than he let on, that he was lonely, that he was confused and that all he wanted was to be back in the arms of Dean. Back with him under the blankets of _their_ bed, together in _their_ shower. He wanted to be with _Dean_ and not a social worker. Not with a woman with a shrink degree.

“Castiel, can you tell me your last name?” Ok, that one was easy. He didn’t have to be scared about answering that one.

“Winches- Novak. It-It’s Novak.” Ok, that wasn’t easy. How long had he been calling himself Castiel Winchester? That was new to him. If it was new to him, it must be full on shocking to April. She hid her emotions well though, only a slight twinge of her lips made him realize that she had truly heard him.

 


	3. Brown Paper Bag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **As usual my editing is done by myself, so that means there isn't really any. Let me know if you find any major mistakes!**

"Alright Castiel, can you tell me what city you are from?"

"Pontiac, Illinois. Though my parents often visited Chicago so I know that place just as well as Pontiac." April jotted all of this down on a notebook that she didn't have before. Where was she keeping all of this stuff? She wasn't carrying a bag with her. Maybe he just needed to get his eyes checked or something, because he was sure that she didn't have that before.

"Castiel, do you know how long it has been that you've been with- with them?" She bypassed their names like they were poisonous. He had thought that once, even recalled that they had tasted sour on his lips. But now, the names of Sam, and mostly Dean, tasted like home. He could say Dean's name a billion times and never get tired of hearing it.

"With Sam and Dean. Don't call them 'them' again. They aren't 'them'. They are people, they are human. They are Sam and Dean. I've been with Sam and Dean for over four years, and I was at the log cabin where you took them from me for one year, three months, 19 days." April paused her writing, but didn't look up at him. He wasn't sure if his message had been clear enough, but he had hoped that it had. He wasn't going to let these people treat them like pieces of scrap meat that you throw to hungry dogs. They are human, they have emotions. They are family to one another, and to others.

"Alright, Castiel. I will call Sam and Dean by their names from now on." Castiel nodded. He lowered himself a little farther into the couch but didn't uncross his arms. "Castiel, did Sam and Dean ever emotionally or physically harm you?" At that, Castiel actually had to laugh. He finally lowered his arms from where they were crossed. With a little extra push, he got up from the couch. He could feel April's eyes on him as he crossed to the window, examining the lighter colored clouds that passed in front of the almost nonexistent moon above them. When he finally turned back to her, he must have looked crazy. He could feel the wildness in his smile and ran his tongue over teeth that had cracked and become sharp in some places.

"Did they ever hurt me? Have you met them? Of course, they hurt me. Take me for x-rays. My left shoulder, my left ankle. Those were from when I jumped out of my third story window to get away from Dean at first. The right side of my ribs when I tried to escape from their car once. That didn't work. Nearly strangled because of the bags they fit over my head while we were traveling. That way I couldn't see where we were going at all. Or my arm when I figured out that we were in South Carolina. My thigh when they accidently told me that we were in Utah. Those are just the broken bones." He didn't stop talking to see that April had stopped writing, and now just looked on in slight horror.

"There were the black eyes and busted lips for talking back. The bruises around my wrists from where they would tie me up because I misbehaved. The shackled marks on my ankles where they locked me to a boiler because I was being too loud. I got yelled at, insulted, degraded. I was pushed, and punched, and kicked. I was used as a punching bag for Sam when he got angry, a battering ram for when Dean got upset!

"But then, oh but then." Suddenly his rage subsided, cooled off into something more private. He talked more to himself than to her, remembering those select few moments he cherished. "I didn't mind the bruises on my back though. They usually came from when he made love to me too rough. He always apologized for those. Sometimes he would choke me from the front as he made love to me. I never minded those bruises either. He always kissed them after, made sure that I was OK. He would worship me after he hurt me like that because, well, because I choose to believe that he loved me.

"Dean could never truly love though. He could never admit it to me. He always admitted to Sam that he cared for him. If you would watch them, the way they banter. The way Sam calls him 'jerk' and Dean calls him 'bitch'. That's their way of saying it to one another. He never said it to me though. Sometimes, if he got too drunk, he would mumble something along the lines of, 'I'm glad that you're mine', and that's how I know it." He turned to April, his eyes misting over. He watched as she batted her eyes a few times, blinking away a tear that was now falling gracefully down her porcelain face. "I could always deal with the bruises he gave me of when we made love; of when he made me his over and over. I cherished those marks of dominance. Those marks of possession. But now?" He could feel his voice crack one again, and he couldn't hold back his tears anymore.

"I'll never have that again. I'll never have him with me. I'll never be in his arms again, I'll never have his fingers on my back again. I'll never have his lips to mine, never have his breath on my skin. I'll never have his chest to mine, never have his legs between mine. I'll never have love bites from him, or bruises of compassion from him, or anything from him! And I already miss him so much!

"You took him away from me! You took him, and I never even got to say goodbye! You took him from me!" He never felt himself falling, but he knew that he had crumpled to the ground. He knew that his slender hands covered his gaunt face, that he shouldn't even know that he was this thin. He knew that being on the ground in a heap of tears and sobs would do nothing to bring back Dean.  _His_ Dean. The shirt that he was wearing was Dean's, the smell forcing it's way up his nose, and he cried even harder. Finally, after just an hour of being away from the man that had captured him so long ago, tortured him for so long, made him feel so alone for so long, he cried for him. He sobbed for him. He tried to drown himself in his own tears because he knew that he would only see Dean in death. He wished for that to happen so quickly, to be with him so soon. How could he have fallen for the man that had bound him, gagged him, stuffed him into the trunk of his car? Yet, how could he have  _not_  fallen for the green-eyed man? The one that smelled of leather and whiskey? The one that carried the token of his brother's love around his neck? The one that had given him so much to care about and to love? How could he have not fallen for the man who had learned how to love, for him?

He couldn't even begin to collect himself up from the floor. He was done for. His emotions wreaked havoc on everything around him, including the social worker with her perfectly done up hair and perfectly pressed suit. He dug his fingers into his skull, he rolled his body farther into himself, and he no longer cared that someone could see him. Through his sobs he could hear April say something, however it was muffled. Did she say that she was getting a doctor?

Before he knew it, Castiel was back to sitting in the chair, a paper bag resting over his nose and mouth, scalp bloodied from his sharp fingernails. He could still feel the tears streaming down his face, but he knew from experience that the carbon dioxide that he was inhaling from the bag was calming him down. It was a simple sedative and it worked well for him. Looking up from the bag that he was still breathing into, he came face to face with who he knew was a doctor. More like a paramedic. The grey uniform, the kind eyes, the medical kit that sat on the table were all clues to who this man was. For a split moment, Castiel thought that it was Dean sitting beside him. The paramedic had softly calloused hands, a large smile, and green eyes. They weren't emerald green though. Those were once in a lifetime eyes that he had fallen for.

"Castiel, my name is Andrew. We are going to get you to the hospital. They should have brought you there in the first place, but now we are going to make sure that you feel good before anyone else bothers you. Can you stand?" Castiel, who was getting slightly groggy from the time he spent breathing into the bag, looked at his legs. They were folded under him, and he felt the tingles in his toes that told him that they were asleep. He looked back to the paramedic, Andrew, and shook his head. Andrew nodded in understanding.

"Alright, I am going to carry you out there. I am going to put one arm under your shoulders, and one arm under your knees. I need you to wrap your arms around my neck though. Can you do that?" He was treating Castiel like a child, but in all honesty, this was exactly what he needed. Someone who was kind, gentle, someone who could understand that he wasn't fragile, but that he was too scared to move. With that hope settled in the back of his mind, Castiel nodded. He took the bag from his face and leaned forward so that Andrew could wrap his arm around him. Castiel tossed his left arm over the paramedic's neck, and turned his face into the shoulder that was carrying him. With his other hand, he absentmindedly curled it under his chin and proceeded to close his eyes. He felt his legs being lifted, and his entire body weight now hung from the paramedic's arms.

"You can't just take him from me! This is an ongoing investigation! I didn't even call you in the first place!" He could hear April nearly screaming at the paramedic, who in turn, whipped around to come face to face with her. Castiel opened one eye to watch the scene that played out before him.

"You didn't have to. In fact, nobody in this entire town thought that it was a good idea to bring this kid back to have him checked over by a doctor. The man that he is crying over, Dean Winchester, is the one that suggested that he have some x-rays taken. Dean was taken to the hospital first, and while we were making sure that his sanity was right where we thought it was, he asked to make sure that Castiel was OK. To ask what room he was in. Do you know just how angry he got when he found out that Castiel wasn't even in the hospital?" April flinched a little but refused to back down. So Andrew kept at it. "He was furious. Enraged that we took the time to look over the killers and not the victim. The victim who  _is_  still alive. The one that had been handcuffed to the bed, starved because they couldn't provide enough food. This kid not only collapsed because he is completely torn apart from having Dean taken from him, but he collapsed because he is so thin that I could carry him with one arm.

"You can talk to him after we make sure that he is ok. After we make sure that he gets to say goodbye to Dean before they send him off to the prison. THEN, and only then, will you be allowed to question him any more. Thank you for your understanding, now if you don't mind, I have an ambulance and two wanted felons waiting for this kid." Castiel let his eyes close as Andrew's careful steps nearly lulled him to sleep. The ambulance didn't have it's lights or sirens on, and he felt the slight jarring as Andrew stepped into the rig. The doors closed. Now, with the man finally able to hear him, Castiel spoke. But he didn't get the words out until Andrew laid him in the gurney and covered him with a warm but scratchy blanket. He grasped at Andrew's hand before he could take that away from him too.

"Did Dean really get angry? Did he really want to see me?" Andrew leaned over the cart and looked right at Castiel.

"Yes. He just about took down four officers trying to get to you too. But I told him that if he calmed down that I could get you. So here we are." Castiel felt his lips curl into a small smile.

"Dean wanted me. I knew I wasn't making it up." He clutched onto Andrew's hand as though it were a lifeline. He needed something real to hold onto until he could see Dean since his sanity had been lost on the carnage of his past.

"It's all real Castiel. It's all real." With his free hand, Castiel saw him tap the back of the driver's seat. With that the engine roared to life, the sirens exploded and the lights painted the surrounding houses. He watched the instruments on the wall shake and wobble as they made their way through town. He wasn't sure how big Sterling was, but he figured that after just a few minutes ride to the hospital, it couldn't be that large.

They opened the back doors and Castiel felt the doctors on the other side asking what the situation was, and pulling on his little bed. Still, he refused to let go of Andrew. He was the only thing that felt real right now, and he needed real. He needed security. He needed Dean.

"Male, 22 years old, the kid that they found with the Winchesters. Obvious signs of Stockholm Syndrome, and severely underweight. Slight dehydration, and muscle weakness. Check through x-rays for old breaks in both legs, ankles, arms, possibly shoulder. Do whatever you have to quickly, and then we have to get him to Dean. The both of them are freaking out without each other." The gurney was locked into place on the ground. Andrew spoke only to him next. "I won't leave you, Castiel. I'll be right here." Castiel heaved a sigh of relief as they began carting him into the building. The lights were too bright and the smell of cleaning chemicals was too strong as it burned the back of his throat.

"Damn, I can't believe that he wants to go back to that, that man. How can he think that this killer loves him or whatever?" One of the female doctors that was pushing his bed tried to speak quietly but to no avail.

"Doctor Madison, you are no longer allowed to help out on this case. Find something else to do." Castiel watched with blurry eyes as he passed a blonde haired doctor. He couldn't help but know that she was right, but the beating in his chest letting him know that he was about to see Dean again was a much more powerful force to be reckoned with.

Castiel felt himself being moved around the hospital. The small bumps in the floor where the doors stopped, and each corner seemed to tilt his entire world. Soon enough though his portable bed was locked into position in a room that was still brightly lit, yet was a little more homely. He had missed the simple sway of curtains and the soft tick of a clock. However the sounds soon stuck in his mind were causing a headache, their constant throb sending shockwaves of annoyance through him. Is this headache what Dean had felt whenever he had gotten on his nerves?

"Castiel? Are you alright?" Andrew was still nearby, and Castiel's face must have relayed his annoyance with the moment.

"The ticking. Dean didn't have clocks. He didn't like the noise. I don't like the noise either." Castiel pulled his hands up to his ears, ill-effectively blocking out the sounds. Still the tick-tick-tick clawed its way into his head. It nested there, burrowing deeper and deeper and- it stopped. He looked up from behind his hands to see Andrew stepping away from the wall, clock in hand. He didn't look at Castiel as he exited the room, having placed the now silenced clock back on the wall. But it had silenced the anger buzzing through his brain, so he was happy with it. When he heard footsteps enter the room, he was disappointed to see that it wasn't Andrew. It was a nurse. Blonde, petite, big doe-like eyes that seemed to be the exact thing that Dean had once looked for in people. Sam had even brought one home that looked like this girl, but they used her within a day and let her off with a simple red smile on her neck.

"Hey Castiel, my name is JoAnna, I'll be your nurse for a while, OK? I am just going to run a few tests, and ask a few questions before we start you on any treatments." Castiel nodded. The room didn't spin as he nodded this time, so he figured that he was getting his bearings back in order. He hasn't, after all, eaten in a little while. Even for him, he can go three or so days before he starts feeling the effects of being hungry, but now that he was back in the "real world"? Yeah, this was going to be a hard transition. "Alright, do you know your blood type, Castiel?"

"They told me that it was A Positive. I'm not sure if they are right though or not. I wouldn't be surprised if they were, however." The nurse was wearing blue scrubs, but on her left breast was a little pink pocket. There was what seemed to be a penlight and a regular pen.

"Alright, we will run your blood type, but for now we are just going to set you up with some O Negative since that is the universal blood donor." Castiel just nodded, watching in fascination as she pulled a needle from thin air. Maybe he should tell the nurse that he needed his eyes checked. It's not that everything was blurry, but the edges were bad enough that he couldn't see if someone grabbed something from just outside his good range of vision. "Castiel, can you tell me what day it is?" She wrapped a piece of elastic around the upper part of his arm, pushing the arm of his shirt away in the process. He knew that it was just in order to get a vein but it still could only remind him of being tied up to the boiler. They had tied his elbows back as far as they could behind his back, and then his wrists after that. They had tied his ankles as well and then dragged him down to the cubby where the water heater was kept. They hadn't bothered to stuff the rag in his mouth, no. He figured that they were far enough away from civilization to worry about that. Plus he was in the basement, behind a closed door, in a room that had no windows-

"Castiel?" The nurse, JoAnna, looked at him. Had he drifted off again?

"I'm here. It's ok." He shook his head a little, though that didn't help the slight headache that was forming in the back of his skull. "What was the question again?" JoAnna's eyes were full of concern, but she also seemed to be full of enough sense to not ask what was just running through his mind. That was the difference between doctors and shrinks. Both were there to help you and to heal you, though doctors were the only ones with enough of a true brain to not ask the hard questions until they knew that you were ready to answer them. The shrinks just jumped in, invading your space- they were like the Winchesters in a way. They didn't care if they hurt you, they just wanted answers to their questions. They tortured you if you didn't answer them correctly, anyways. Ok, maybe they didn't tie you to a water heater and let you sit there and starve for three days, only coming down with a glass of water twice a day. However they picked and poked at the open wounds that you had exposed for them, trusting in their capabilities enough to show them your unhealed scars, and they attack them with words and thoughts and images.

"I asked you if you knew what the date was." She poked at his arm a little bit, and finally sighed in relief. "Ok, I am going to give you just a quick prick, and then we are going to be done. I have to take a vial of blood for our samples, plus the cops want to make sure that you really are who you say that you are." She lined up the needle, and Castiel was inclined to watch. He liked to watch things go into him. Needles (because this certainly wasn't the first in these past four years), knives, he even liked to watch as Dean entered him. He liked the feeling of things going in, drawing back out, and depending on what it was, going back in again. For a moment, he craved that it was Dean that was entering him again and again, but the subtle beeping from down the hall gave away that he wasn't with them anymore. He was in a hospital. With a nurse putting a needle in his arm. Away from Dean.

"I don't know. I know that it's night time out, and that it's been four years since I was taken, but I stopped counting the days that they took me when it got to the one year and six-month mark. I figured that after that people would have stopped looking for me. Not for the boys, but had stopped looking for the one that they took with them. After all, why would they ever keep one of their pets alive for that long?" His cold glare bore into JoAnna, and she did her best to not recoil at the thoughts that were suddenly forced into her head. That was one good thing that Castiel had learned with his time with the Winchesters, he could manipulate thoughts and reasonings, put pictures into people's heads, and change the way that they thought about themselves. Wow, was he becoming one of them? The one thing that he couldn't really tell her is that the newspaper this morning- yesterday morning?- read that it was the 12th. But that felt like an eternity ago, he figured that it would have been wrong.

"Hey, that's ok. I didn't really expect you to know exactly what day it is, it's just protocol. Ok, you're done with the blood part. You just sit back and relax for a little bit. You might feel a little woozy because of the slight blood loss." She pulled the needle from his arm and unwrapped the elastic tourniquet. He felt the blood that had pooled above his elbow suddenly rush back into his lower arm, giving him an odd tingling feeling in his fingers. "Ok, just a few more questions while I do a few more tests."

"Ok." She pointed at her nose, obviously asking him to look at it. She then pulled the penlight out of her pocket and started shining it in his eyes.

"Can you tell me why you are so keen to see them again?" Her voice was just as demanding as it had been earlier, though it had been softened slightly. He had stopped looking at her nose and was now staring deep into her big brown eyes.

"Isn't that like asking why you let an external tumor get so bad before coming in to see the doctor? Or how about asking why a woman in an abusive relationship won't leave her boyfriend? Why don't you ask them those questions?" JoAnna was utterly stunned, lowering her penlight and taking a step back.

"Castiel, I didn't mean to offend you or anything- it's just an, an odd situation that you are in- have been in." She ruffled her long blonde hair that hung loosely around her shoulders. Sam would be the one to play with that hair.

Perhaps meet her in a bar, close to it being closing time. They would be the last ones in there, the bartender having gone into the back to get to cleaning everything up that had been spilled by her incompetent workers. Sam would lull her into a false sense of security. Tell her, 'no, it's ok. I am just going to sit here, with a seat between us. See? You're OK.' From there he would slowly creep closer, maybe put his hand on hers. From there it would be so easy- He's so much larger than her. Once he got close enough, maybe pulling her in for a 'kiss', and just one solid smack of her head on the bar top. The bartender would come out, asking what that sound was. Sam would say that she was just a lightweight and he was taking her to the hospital to sober up. She would never be seen again. Of course, the bartender would recognize him after that, maybe call the cops. But who had he taken? Where were they going? There was no way to trace him because he took off running through the creek that ran behind the bar, and into the awaiting car on the other side.

"No, it's OK. I just, I don't see the difference. It's not like I could ever run from them. So I did the next best thing and ran to them. But even that kind of backfired and they ended up,  _Dean_  ended up actually liking me. Without my permission, I ended up falling for him as well. It's a complicated situation that even I can't begin to comprehend.

"Don't you worry about anything JoAnna. You see, even though I fell for them, I know that they are poison. Think of it like, an alcoholic. They see all the ads for AA and addiction help. They also see the label on the bottle of whiskey or gin. They see that they can't walk straight and that they can't work anymore. But the thing that keeps them going as an alcoholic is that small little warm spot that grows. Right there, right in their belly." He pointed to his own emaciated stomach just to make his point. He continued, "It's that burn, that tingle, that small slow warmth that builds... That's what you chase after. It's the warmth of someone, some _thing_ loving you." He watched as JoAnna's face fell into a relaxed smile. Could that be kindness that she was showing? Wow, he really needed to get out of the way of the Winchesters, but just like he had said to her. It was the burn of someone loving you that you chased after.

She didn't come any closer to him, but she had stopped taking small steps away. He figured that she had finally seen what he was talking about, and he hoped that this time he could make her see that he wasn't crazy. Crazy, no. But he sure as hell was desperate to get back to Dean. How could he have fallen for such a poisonous thing? How could he let the toxicity of the situation grow to where it had?

"Castiel, I have one last question for you. You don't have to answer it with words, just with a nod or shake of your head. Ok?" She put the penlight that she had been holding back into her pocket and grabbed the chart that was on the bedside table. He could see the last three letters of his last name at the top, then the year that he was born. He nodded, maybe practicing for her question. "Did you actually want to be rescued from them?"

Ok, so maybe it was a very innocent question that had just been asked, and he should really answer 'yes' to it. He thought back to the beatings, the broken bones, the times he was knocked unconscious by a fist or a frying pan. He thought back to the times when he was chained and cuffed, tied and restrained. He thought back to the times when he couldn't talk because of a gag, and gagged because he couldn't talk. Who was he to say that he didn't want to be rescued? But as he looked at her, he saw Dean in her face. The way her expression was hardened through her job, stoic for the sake of those around her. But it was the few crow's feet that were just starting to form in the corners of her eyes, too young to have them but nonetheless they were there.

"I don't know. I did, but now that I have? I don't know." Silence roared through the room, taking everything in its path like a tsunami wave. Just as suddenly as he remembered all the bad stuff that they had done to him, he could also remember everything else.

He thought back to the times that the boys were somehow able to get takeout food, and every time they did, they asked him what he had wanted. Dean had made sure to always give him some space when something had happened, let him cool down and calm down. Castiel thought back to when Dean had asked him what his favorite color was, and he had said 'green' in less than a millisecond, and Dean had just let him stare into those emerald eyes of his until he fell asleep. He remembered the first time that he had woken up in Dean's arms, and how he had a panic attack so quickly, and Dean just rubbed his back through it. He remembered when he first woke up in the cabin a year, three months, 20 days ago- he hadn't been afraid. Instead he had woken up to the smell of freshly made coffee, birds chirping outside of the window, and a warm blanket pulled up to his chin.

"It's not that I didn't want to be rescued, per se. It's just that, if I hadn't been, it wouldn't have been the end of the world for me. I could survive so much longer with them, though I know that any day, if I were to do something that pissed either of them off just right, I wouldn't get to see the next morning's sunrise. It's not that I didn't want to be, it's that I didn't have to be." As he spoke, he realized that what he was saying would be just enough to get him into the psych ward of a well-known hospital. 'Look at him! He would be the poster boy for Stockholm Syndrome. The man who grew to love his tormentors so much that he wouldn't have left them if given the choice!'

"Castiel, it's not a bad thing that you want to go back to them. It's normal to have feelings for the people who take care of you. It's OK to feel what you are feeling." JoAnna had taken a step or two towards him, and suddenly, he didn't feel quite like the sideshow that everyone seemed to want him to be. "Castiel, it's perfectly good for you to want to be with the people who care about you. I may not be able to understand how your feelings came to be, but I know that what you are feeling is real and valid." He took a moment to look deep into her brown eyes, to see that she wasn't just pulling this stuff out of her ass. Even for a doctor, could she really mean what she was saying?

He had just opened his mouth to say something back, when the handle to his door jiggled. Had it always been closed? It jiggled again, harder. Voices began to seep through the cracks in the door, and heavy footsteps were flooding the hallway. Oh, so the reporters had found out. They had found out before, the flashes of light illuminating the 'crime scene' that had been his home for the past year, three months, 20 days. Somehow though, somehow they found where the doctors had stashed him. Surely this small town couldn't have this large of a media platform?

"Castiel, I am going to go put your chart back and bring back an orthopedic surgeon, a portable x-ray machine, and I will have a cardio consult brought in to do an echo on your heart to make sure that there isn't any damage that we have to get to right away. They will take a look at some of the old breaks that we were told about, and then we will try to get you out of here as soon as we can." She tucked the chart that she was carrying under her arm and made for the door.

"Where will I be going once I am out of here?" She paused, her thin hand on the door handle. She didn't even seem to look back over her shoulder as she spoke.

"I can't tell you that. I really don't know." With that, she unlocked the door and pulled it open. The both of them were suddenly blinded by the flashing of lights. Shouts of questions came through to him, and just as quickly as it had started, the door was closed, and all he could hear were footsteps.


	4. Media Presence

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_He woke up gently, much like the rest of the week that was now behind him. Dean hadn't had an outburst in about two, and Sam has kept his mouth shut for even longer. Who knew that 'brotherly love' could consist of the boys refusing to talk to one another. He wasn't sure who it was, and he knew that it wasn't him, but whoever ate the last bowl of Lucky Charms did some serious damage on the other person._

_Now, he woke up to a quiet household, blankets pulled up to his chin, the lights from the window were just starting to make tracks on the dark hardwood floors that ran through the three bedrooms, into the kitchen, and onto the deck out back. The weight next to him shifted, a small moan coming from those perfect lips that Castiel couldn't stop staring at._

_He rolled over onto his side as well, facing the log of a sleeper that Dean had grown to become. A soft snore escaped him as he shifted once again. Dean always slept on his stomach, unless they had fallen asleep watching a movie or something, but even then, he always migrated back to how he usually slept. Slowly, Castiel pulled his hand out from under the heavy covers and went to run it through Dean's hair. This was still a toss-up in the mornings, whether Dean would freak or not at the unsolicited attention that was being shown to him. But considering the small snores and the modest smile that now was invading his face, Castiel figured that it would be fine to do so._

_At first, Dean stilled when Castiel began to run his fingers through that thick hair. Again he marveled at it. The thickness made it look course, but in actuality, it was quite soft. Hues of golden brown and chocolate brown swirled together, making a color that wasn't blond, wasn't brown, but more of a darker caramel color. Today the sun was just beginning to glint and shine in the room, causing it to glitter in the early hues of morning. It took only a few strokes of his hand before Dean finally opened his eyes. A flat expression had taken over his face before he finally looked up to Castiel. His hand had stopped moving when Dean opened his eyes, hopeful that he wouldn't get in trouble for this. He only continued when that sleepy filled smile spread itself across his face one more time._

_"Good morning, Dean." He could feel the corners of his own mouth twitch upwards, enjoying the silence that the morning provided. Dean shifted so that he was on his side, elbow propping up his head._

_"'Mornin' Cas. You sleep well?" Castiel could tell that he stifled back a yawn as he spoke, but didn't say anything. He just nodded his head. His hand had fallen down onto the mattress between them, and he only just noticed that as Dean snuck his own hand up to rest it on his. "Good." Castiel smiled and slowly relaxed onto his back as Dean made his way towards him. It was slow, a well-rehearsed dance, the moves perfected over time. Still, his heart raced. That twinge of fear that had come to permanently settle in his gut sparked for a moment as Dean came to position himself over the younger man. The fear faded as Dean leaned down, though. As soft as a butterfly's kiss, he pressed their lips together. They had long since ignored the morning breath ritual of eating a mint before anything happened, they had grown so comfortable._

_It was just the morning kiss that Dean wanted, yet Castiel craved more. Dean had just pulled back, ready to get out of bed, when Castiel brought his hand up around Dean's waist. He tugged gently, coaxing Dean to kiss him again. Castiel smiled as his small action worked, and Dean leaned down again. The hunger that Castiel felt coming from Dean hadn't been there just a minute ago, but he desperately craved it. He yearned for it. He received it. The once gentle kiss soon blossomed into something more. Soon Dean slid his tongue across Castiel's lip, though he truly no longer needed to ask permission. Castiel accepted him easily, and he just as eagerly returned the favor. As Castiel got more heated between the blankets, he lifted his hips up to meet Dean's, but the man on top paused. He pulled his head away with a lingering kiss and used those emerald eyes to look down at Castiel._

_"Not this morning, Cas. Can't be distracted today. I was going to go out hunting." Castiel fell back heavily onto the bed, sighing dramatically, just to make his point clear. Dean chuckled and placed a kiss on Castiel's temple before rolling out of bed on Cas' side. As he got up, the sweatpants that he had been wearing hung dangerously low on his hips, and Castiel couldn't look away. Not when Dean stepped over to the closet to grab a shirt, and not when that shirt covered the little dimples that were placed perfectly on either side of his spine. Regretfully Castiel finally sat up and swung his legs out of bed, but remained there to watch Dean pull those sweatpants off of his bare ass._

_Castiel knew that from the way he bent over to grab a pair of underwear from the drawer that he could feel Castiel watching his every move. Castiel huffed a quick laugh as Dean made a show of making sure that it took him a long time to, not only put on his underwear, but jeans as well. How is it possible for someone to be so hot putting clothes_ on _? Castiel made his way out of bed, finally, and he picked up Dean's sweatpants off of the floor, putting them on over his boxers. Soon enough the two of them, one still in pajamas and the other ready for the day, made their way to the kitchen, where Sam was sitting over a bowl of oatmeal._

_"Morning guys. Dean, you going out hunting today?" Sam looked up from the newspaper that he must have picked up from someone else's house. He, too, looked ready for the day. Except for his hair. Dean walked over to the fridge, and passing by Sam, made one quick comment._

_"Man, I'm tellin' you. Five minutes with some clippers an-" Dean dodged barely out of the way of Sam's backhanded swing._

_"Shut up, ass." But in regards to the comment, he put his spoon down and ran his fingers through his hair, effectively controlling the tornado that is his long hair in the mornings. Castiel sat down on the opposite side of Sam at the table, daring to take a look at the date on the top of the newspaper. August 12, 2016. He would have been at this cabin for over a full year now. One year, three months, and what? 18, 19 days? 19 for sure if he counted today._

_The rest of the morning went fairly smoothly, with Dean going out and grabbing a pheasant fairly easily, and Sam getting in some good reading time with the newspaper. Castiel wasn't allowed to read the newspaper, nor was he allowed any magazines that were from after he was taken. He could read most everything else though. There was a small library in Sam's bedroom. Castiel took the morning to shower, though there was no more hot water. He usually had Dean with him to warm him up in the cold water. Then he read for a while, and, with Sam's permission and careful eye, was allowed to sit on the back porch for a little while. Dean had returned back with the pheasant after a few hours, the clock just striking one o'clock as he returned. Just as he made his way up the steps of the back porch, a surge of electricity went through Castiel, making him shudder._

_"You OK Cas? It's not that cold out, out here." Dean placed the pheasant on the porch and went over to Castiel. He never showed true concern for Castiel, but maybe today was different?_

_"Yeah, I'm good. Something just feels... off. Maybe a storm is about to come through. Not sure." It was at the moment that Dean picked up the deceased bird, that a low flying plane, perhaps a crop duster, crossed over the house. Dean ushered Castiel inside after that, and placed the bird on the countertop. He chanced a quick glance out of the window before Dean pulled the blinds shut, but the low flying plane was far gone._

_Dean started fixing the wild pheasant, getting it ready for their dinner the next night. It would have to marinate tonight and cook most of the day tomorrow, so they planned on just having soup for dinner tonight. Castiel watched with morbid fascination as the feathers that Dean plucked fell to the floor in a large pile. As Dean got to the large and impressive tail feathers, Castiel plucked a few for himself to hold and play with. Even with all the books that was allowed to read, there wasn't all that much to do. Entertainment was scarce when you were a kidnapped person._

_"Dean-" Castiel paused, both his voice and the feathers in his hands. Dean didn't stop his actions of plucking the bird, moving on to cut off the head, but he did look over to Castiel. So, he tried again. "Dean, I have been really good these past few years- I've done everything you've asked, and I-I've not tried to do anything wrong. B-but the thing is, see- see I want to- to- to experience life...?" Ok, so it wasn't what he had planned in his head, but it was close enough. He knew that he would get shut down for what he was implying, but he had to try. He looked up to Dean who had slowed down his actions, but hadn't looked up. The expression etched into his face though gave concern to Castiel. He had probably crossed a line._

_Without looking up, Dean replied, "So you want- what? To be freed? To be let loose? To be given an inch but you end up taking a mile?" He had now moved onto taking the organs out of the bird, depositing the steaming flesh into the nearby trash bin, their odor permeating the air and everything surrounding._

_"No, I just want to- I want to see a movie in the theater or something. Go out to eat in an actual restaurant, served by actual waiters. I want to be taken out on dates and sit by a lake feeding the ducks. I want to return to the little things that so many people take for granted._

_"However, I actually don't want to leave here- you. I don't want to leave the man that has taken care of me for all these years. Let me sleep in his bed, worship his entire being; I don't want to leave you, but I want to remember what it's like to be me." The feather between his fingers stilled as Dean paused his movements._

_"The 'you' that isn't bound to my every whim? The 'you' that isn't subject to my desires?" Dean had finished pulling the organs from the bird, and had now moved on to making sure that the outside of the bird was completely featherless, and then began cutting off the feet at the knees of the animal._

_"No, Dean. I want to be bound to you, be subject to your every whim and desire. I really and truly do- I'm sorry, asking to see a movie or something was too much. Forgive me." He fell silent, once again pulling the long feathers through his fingers, admiring their beauty that most people had learned to overlook. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Dean process the conversation that Castiel had just finished. He figured that he would be mad about the encounter, but he had hoped that he would at least be understanding at what he was asking... maybe even requesting._

_"So you want to just go to a, to a movie? You want to go see a movie?" He had laid down the large chopping knife that he had so quickly used to cut the legs off of the turkey. He looked over to Castiel, who was inefficiently hiding behind the few feathers he held. Castiel nodded his head, disappointment trying not to disturb his expression. Dean let himself mull over that for a moment, before nodding._

_"OK. I know of a drive in that starts at about seven. We can go there." He went back to finishing cleaning the bird, carrying it over to the sink to wash out the inner cavity. Castiel, dumbstruck at the notion that Dean could actually agree, couldn't move._

_"Really?" He couldn't believe it. Surely he was imagining Dean agreeing to go to a movie. "Really?!" He watched as Dean's shoulders shook, obviously laughing. He looked over his shoulder at Castiel._

_"Yes! You are going to a movie tonight! I was going to take you anyways, I knew that you were getting antsy being holed up in here for so long with nothing to do. We are going to a drive-in movie. I even know which movie it is- Creature From The Black Lagoon. I'll even get you candy and shit." With that candy enticement and a promise of a cheesy horror flick, Castiel jumped from the table. He flung himself at Dean, who had just dropped his large chopping knife into the sink moments before, and planted a well-deserved kiss to those everlasting, and long-loving lips. Wrapping his arms around Dean's neck, he felt himself be lifted around the waist and gently spun into the middle of the kitchen._

_Castiel let himself be carried away into blissful oblivion, breathing in the perfect scent of Dean after a hunt. He let himself forget for a moment that Dean wasn't a boyfriend, wasn't a lover, wasn't his. For a perfect, silent moment, Dean was only his. His life, his world, his future... his everything. Could he have fallen in love with this man? It wasn't the first time the thought has crossed his mind, though it was the first time he didn't have 'no' as an answer. Castiel felt Dean wrap his arms closer around him, pulling him tighter to his body. Castiel took every chance he could get to kiss Dean over and over, making sure that Dean knew that he was appreciated. He just wanted to give him an even deeper meaning of being appreciated._

_"Upstairs. Please." Castiel breathed his request gently into Dean, who pulled back instantly. Confused, he almost let himself become crestfallen before Dean could speak._

_"Let me put the damned bird in the fridge first, then we will go upstairs." He gave Castiel one more long kiss before rushing back to the sink. Without another word, Castiel sidled up next to Dean, making sure he was seen. Once he was sure he was noticed, Castiel slowly took his shirt off, exposing a chest that was thinner than he would admit. Dean licked at his lips, and tried not to let his eyes wander from the bird, which he was now wrapping in plastic wrap. Dean took a step back from the sink to get a better grasp on the bird and Castiel took the chance to sneak a hand over. Clutching at the belt buckle of Dean's jeans, he watched as Dean moaned into the movement of Castiel's hand fondling his crotch._

_Biting his lip, Dean took to focusing on finishing wrapping the pheasant. Enjoying the show that was Dean's mouth gently falling open, and his eyes slowly closing, Castiel finished unlatching the belt. Once the leather was free, he dropped his hand to the hardening bulge in Dean's jeans. Planting a quick squeeze, Castiel backed away before Dean's wild side could escape. Finally getting the bird in the fridge, Castiel let himself be turned to. Predatory eyes, ones that he had once feared seeing, now enticed him even more. Wiggling his hips a little bit, he backed up against the far counter, making Dean come to him._

_Being looked at like he was prey, being hunted by the hunter, gave Castiel a feeling that he didn't know that he had liked. It had only grown on him since being in the cabin- maybe it was because they were more secluded now than they had been in a while, or maybe it was because Dean was back in his element of actually hunting game. Either way, the effect that it had on the man made Castiel tingle all the way to his toes._

_Finally, Dean walked close enough to Castiel that he felt the hot breath of Dean on his exposed chest. Because there wasn't much of a height difference between the two, it was easy to look into one another's eyes. In the short moment that they were just touching legs, hands just beginning to reach for the other's body, they had stared peacefully into the other's eyes. As soon as hands grasped though, the moment was broken as Dean and Castiel rushed to meet the other, lips crashing, getting caught between teeth that hadn't moved out of the way fast enough._

_It was the simple complexity of the situation that drove them forward in their actions. Two men, following their base instinct to love and be loved by another. The only problem that ever aroused from the situation is that they didn't belong to one another unless you counted that the younger had been kidnapped a while ago by the older. But it was the primal need of lust- screw and be screwed- that made them blatantly ignore how scary this scene would be for someone... had this been a book._

_Castiel let his mind wander, as it always did, from the fact that Dean had once raped him so badly that he couldn't stand for a week because the tear along the crack behind his asshole would reopen, blood and feces spilling. He drove from his mind the memory of being bound and gagged, thrown into the trunk of a car, and nearly breaking his neck as the Winchester's drove furiously away with their latest victim. He ignored the pulsating thought that Dean could have been angry with him at this request, and could have tied him to the water heater once more._

_He let the sweet thoughts of lying in bed with the man who worshiped his body fill his mind. He let himself remember the morning kisses, the slow fucks late at night. He pounded into his memory of this moment- of Dean loving him, and only him._

_Their lips met again and again, want and desire filling their bodies as they rushed their actions. Soon, though they couldn't tell you who had started, they rutted up against each other, trying desperately to gain the friction that they both so heavily craved. It felt like an eternity as they wound around the other in the kitchen before Dean finally pulled back from the hot kisses that Castiel was frantically giving. Castiel felt himself moan in annoyance as Dean pulled away, the friction and lust lost in the space that now was between them. This act, however, was new._

_Dean grabbed Castiel's hand in his and tugged gently. With Castiel following, wide-eyed and entranced, Dean led the duo to their bedroom. Guiding him up the stairs and through the hallway, he pushed open the door with his empty hand. Filled with newfound curiosity as to the kindness that Dean was showing, Castiel willingly followed his every silent command- starting with taking himself to the bed. With his back turned, he heard the door close and enjoyed the familiar sound of the lock turning. They were now utterly alone in their own perfect, albeit different, world._

_Dean took his time making his way back over to Castiel, watching the younger man now sitting on the bed, taking off the sweatpants that he had been wearing all day. Castiel watched Dean's eyes grow wide as he slid off his underwear. It always amazed Cas that Dean could always be struck with awe each time he saw him fully naked. It wasn't that he was staring at his cock, no, but that he was staring only at Castiel. Eyes that were for him only, and that you couldn't tear away if you had a crow-bar._

_The distance shortened itself, and with an outstretched hand, Dean grabbed at Castiel's shoulders. Castiel let himself be pushed back onto the bed, and looked over with full-blown lust as Dean stripped quickly. His hunting jacket, his plaid shirt, his tee shirt, (why does he wear so many layers? It takes so long to get him into bed!) his boots, his jeans, and finally his underwear. Castiel sighed in relief as Dean gently settled himself in between his spreading legs. He inhaled as Dean came face to face with him, and breathed in his musk._

_"That's a nice smile there, Cas. Like what you see? Like what you smell?" Dean lowered himself into a push-up form above Castiel, giving himself only an inch of space between the two. From Castiel's perspective, he could only see the stipple of freckles that wound their way over his slightly bridged nose, and strong cheekbones; those once in a lifetime eyes that seemed to glow from within. Golden flecks, only visible from so close, glinted in the afternoon sun._

_"I always do, Dean." He raised his lips just once, placing a quick kiss to Dean's. He enjoyed the smile that ensued._

_"You do?" Dean placed a slightly longer kiss as a return. Castiel's lips tingled with want._

_"I always will." At that, Castiel placed his hands on Dean's jaw, bringing him down for the kiss that lasted for the rest of the night._

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

He would have been deafened by the silence that surrounded him, had it not been for the stampede of reporters right outside of his door. With the ticking clock gone from his room, he had no sense of time. It could have been mere minutes that he laid on that hospital bed- it could have been hours. The blinds to his room were drawn so even if there had been sunlight to see, it would have been blocked out. For the first time since he arrived, he allowed himself to notice what was around him.

The sheets on the bed were slightly scratchy, though any sheets would be after the soft embrace of the ones that Dean had. The pillow under his head was too soft, but then again he was used to sleeping on the broad chest of Dean. The room was glum, the walls too clean, the bed too- he turned his head to the left, and was rewarded with the lack of Dean next to him- too empty. He sighed, an act he had grown accustomed to, and let his head fall back upon the pillow.

Time slipped by in perpetual slow motion. It seemed that with every breath he took in time went backward, and each time he exhaled it would jump forward. The voices outside of his door never thinned. For a moment he had thought about asking one of them if they could get him a cookie or something, but then thought better about the onslaught of questions he would receive. So he listened to the mutterings from under the crack in the door.

"It's only been four years- could he really be that attached?"

"The Dugard girl was there for 18, she didn't get this bad."

"Yeah, but haven't you guys noticed? This one is a dude!"

"What, guys can't be emotionally compromised?"

"That's not what I'm saying."

"Then what are you saying?"

"What I am saying is that between Jaycee Dugard, Pat Hearst, and the three girls from the Cleveland Kidnapping- Amanda Berry, Gina DeJesus, and Michelle Knight- is that they weren't faggots. Those are just the famous cases!" Castiel cringed slightly when he heard the familiar sound of someone being slapped.

"You're an asshole. Number one, the guy is in the room right behind us, meaning that he can probably hear us. Number two, the amount of male Stockholm Syndrome victims are statistically not that different from the female numbers, though the drastic difference between the two is that the males never get reported on. It's deemed 'unmanly' and 'feminine' to be taken as a hostage, so they try not to show that to the public. And three, you're an absolute idiot if you think the reason that he got Stockholm Syndrome is because you presume him to be gay. So shut the fuck up, and let the kid rest. He's been through enough without having to listen to you complain about his life."

The voices fell silent again, and Castiel mentally applauded the guy who had stood up for him. It was a relief to know that there were people who actually cared about how he was feeling, and what he thought. This was even before they had talked. But he knew that when he could talk to the reporters, he wanted to talk to that one. He had his facts down, and he had his priorities in order. Then there was a knock on the door. A courtesy knock, obviously, as the doctor just let himself in. He wheeled in what looked like an ultrasound machine. He could promise the doctor right away that he wasn't pregnant.


	5. Skittles

"Hey Castiel, I'm Doctor Inias. I'm a cardiologist, meaning that I specialize in people's hearts. The machine I have with me is called a Cardiac Ultrasound. Much like they use on expecting mothers, this is going to let me have a look inside of you without going in." His hair was salt and peppered, with a fully white goatee. He had some gentle brown eyes that reminded him of Sam.

Doctor Inias pulled out a pair of gloves from a box on the wall- he saw it that time- and pulled them on. "I'm going to squeeze some jelly stuff on your chest and then put the ultrasound over your heart. Then we can see your heart together. Ok?" He pulled the cart a little closer, and Castiel nodded. "Alright then. I need you to take off your shirt, please."

He couldn't. No, it smelled like Dean. He had to have this shirt. He couldn't take it off, it was Dean's, it was Dean's shirt, he couldn't take it off, they would take it from him, they would put it in a box marked as evidence, it was Dean's shirt- "Easy there Castiel, take a breath. Why don't you tell me what's going through your mind right now. We can do this little test in a minute." He sat down on the end of the bed, near Castiel's feet. He pushed the cart away, giving Cas a little bit of breathing room.

"The shirt. It's Dean's. You will take it from me. You already took him. You took our house. You took him. You will take the shirt. You can't take the shirt. It's his. It's mine." He knew that he was being unreasonable. He knew that this shirt was evidence. He knew that it belonged to the man who had all but killed him. But it also belonged to the man that had given him one last beautiful night.

"How about we make a deal. If you take the shirt off, you get to keep it. You hold it, or fold it, or whatever you want to do. But it will be yours and only yours. I won't touch it." Castiel looked a little harder at the man. He wore the white lab coat and yellow dotted scrubs. He seemed like he wouldn't lie about this kind of thing. It was too important to lie about. Well, it may not have been important to anyone else, but to Castiel, this shirt was very important.

"You promise?" He eyed the man wearily... he wasn't really used to actually trusting people to do what they say they are going to.

"I promise." The doc even leaned away as Castiel brought the tee shirt up over his head. It was the Metallica one that Dean had worn the day before last. It's faded logo made the shirt all that more personalized, since it was Dean that had worn the shirt so thin. As he pulled it all the way off, he truly saw for the first time how skinny he had been. He thought he had seen it from under the shirt, able to count his ribs with his fingers, but this was so different.

There was bone, a small layer of meat and fat over his hips, on his sides, and barely over his ribs. His stomach, though pushing towards being concave, wasn't quite there yet, but he definitely wasn't as built as he used to be. His arms were now muscleless, and he could see his clavicles if he tilted his head the right way- they weren't supposed to stick out that much.

"Alright, there we go." The doctor stood from the bed and grabbed the cart as Castiel folded the shirt, holding it between his hands like a prayer that he wanted to be answered. In a way, it was a prayer. He wanted so badly just to see him one last time. Even just to say goodbye. "This is going to be a little cold, sorry. Once we are done with this I'll grab you some warm blankets and we will get a fluid I.V. started-"

"When are you guys going to let me see him?" The doctor accidentally squeezed too hard on the bottle, being caught off guard from the question. He quickly grabbed a towel and wiped away the excess gel before grabbing the ultrasound- whatever it was.

"We will let you see him once we know that you are completely healthy." Doctor Inias placed the- wand?- on Castiel's chest, and turned the machine on with the other hand.

"But you still have to do x-rays, and probably do a CT scan, maybe an MRI. You have to wait for the bloodwork, and then you'll probably want a urine sample. You want to make sure I am still able to walk and move properly, and then be able to hear properly. You'll test my eyesight, which I actually might need, and then you will rerun a lab or two because the results were 'off'. It could be another day before you deem me 'healthy' enough to see him. So please, for the sake of the guards who I know are having to deal with a fighting and resisting man, let me see him." The doctor all but ignored him. The pleas were silenced by the beating of his own heart.

"See here? That's your left ventricle. That's your right one. Your aorta is that. Right atrium, and the left. It looks like everything is in perfect order." He grabbed the used towel and wiped off the rest of the gel from his chest, before putting everything back in order on the cart.

"If you don't take me to see Dean I-I will tell all of the reporters that you're mistreating me, the victim of the Winchesters." He clamped his mouth shut, not knowing where that had come from. Do people in love really do these crazy things, say these crazy things? He wasn't sure... after all, is this even love? The Doctor on the other hand froze. He turned back around from the cart and stared at Castiel.

"I will talk to the lead doctor on your case. I will tell him what you just told me. I will also tell him what I think needs to happen. If you want to talk to the reporters, who are no less than bloodthirsty mongrels waiting for one single scrap of meat that they call 'Castiel, The Miracle Man', then so be it.

"You can do your best to get me fired, but kid- I've been doing this job longer than you've been alive. I don't know what kind of guts you have after living with the Winchesters for so long, but so help me God if you put a toe out of line that jeopardizes your life. If you think Dean was bad when he didn't have anyone to fight for, wait until he gets a whiff of the wind that his little 'pet' has gone rogue." Castiel sat back, abashed by those painful words. There was no way that he actually just said that...

"His pet? His- How dare you." He felt like screaming to the rafters, tearing his head off of his shoulders, ripping his lungs out- yet his scream was barely even a whisper. How could this man be so blind? Is ignorant the right word for this situation? There was no way that he was actually that- he didn't even have words to describe the situation. He refused to look at the doctor after that, he was too ashamed and to stunned to say anything more. With the silence cascading around them, and with the cold look in his eye, the doctor walked from the room, echo cart in tow.

Castiel sat back in the bed, holding back the tears that were threatening to fall. He had learned fairly well how to hold in his emotions, but that was one string that really hadn't needed to be cut.

Dean wasn't a zookeeper, wasn't a pet owner. Yeah, he may have had control over Castiel's life, but Castiel wasn't a pet. He didn't sit on command... Well, actually he did. If Dean told him a command, he would do it. If he was told to lie down, he would go upstairs. He wasn't a pet though! He put the shirt back on, proving that he didn't need to be told what to do and when... though he did hesitate for a moment.

A soft knock on the door drew his attention away. It was another doctor, a different doctor. This one was younger, reddish-brown hair that was floppy past his ears, and blue eyes that rivaled his own. "Hey Castiel, I'm Doctor Malachai. I'm the lead doctor on your case. I heard that you want to go see Dean?" He pushed the door closed quickly behind him, making sure that none of the press got a glimpse of the young man. Castiel nodded, eyeing this doctor just like the last one. Malachai seemed nicer than Inias though. "Alright. I am going to check your blood pressure, do a quick test on your eyes, make sure that your motor function is good, and then we will get you to see him in less than ten minutes. How does that sound?"

Castiel, rightfully hesitant to trust this new guy, nodded once more. As a form of protection, he had learned to keep his mouth shut. It hadn't worked so well for the past doctor, but this one wasn't quite as bad. The silence is what had kept Castiel alive for those days when Dean, or Sam, didn't want him around. Malachai came around and pulled a penlight from his pocket. "Follow the light with your eyes. Good job. Now, keep your head still and touch your nose. Now touch my finger. Keep going while I move my finger around." It felt completely ridiculous to Castiel that he was being put through these paces, but if it got him closer to seeing Dean, he would do so.

They went through a few more actions (it was more or less just a sobriety test without the alphabet and breathing thing) and then went over a few memory things when the doctor finally stood away from Castiel. "Alright. I have put you through all the basic tests that we needed. I can safely say that you are fit as a fiddle for what you have been through. There is a slight lag in your left side, but I am guessing that is from the initial fall all those years ago. Let me clear the hall and I will take you to him." Castiel, relieved that he was finally done with these silly little tests, smiled and sighed. He was going to get to see Dean.

The doctor took his sweet time in clearing the reporters from the hall before finally coming back in to retrieve Castiel. He held out a hand, helping to pull Castiel to his feet. "You get to walk to him. As long as you eat this granola bar on the way; you have to eat all of it." Castiel fervently nodded, taking the granola bar from the doctor who had pulled it from his lab coat. Castiel opened it and a few crumbs spilled from the wrappings. He ignored the curious looks from the doctor as he immediately got to his knees and picked up every single crumb that had fallen. Once they were gathered, he deposited them into the nearby wastebasket by the door. He proceeded to eat the entire bar in just a few bites, making sure to eat over the trash can so that he wouldn't leave crumbs anywhere. Sam was the neat freak about crumbs. Sometimes he even got on Dean for being messy. The ensuing fights were petty and usually lasted a few hours, max.

"Ok, I'm finished." He looked to the doctor and noticed that he was taller than him, by a few inches at least. Doctor Malachai nodded and smiled, and then opened the door. If he thought the brightness of the walls in his room was too much, then this hallway was completely blinding. The lights flickered gently, and their humming was annoying. But he was no longer on a bed.

They passed a nurses station, where both of the women behind the desk glanced up at him. He saw the flicker of compassion dance across their timid faces, and Castiel couldn't help but play a small game with them. Having learned from the best, Castiel let a small smile spread across his lips, yet made sure to keep his eyes dark, fixated on the brunette sitting closest to him. He let himself be amused by the way she pulled back from the desk, away from him. His mind, however, returned to its normal thoughts, and he went back to the kind and kidnapped person that he was- all hints of intimidation gone.

The duo travel down one hallway, through a set of double doors, turned a corner, turned another corner, went through another set of double doors, and there- the wall of policemen that signaled the Winchesters. Of course, they wouldn't be in the same room, and Castiel only had to guess that Dean was in the one on the left; one of the officers sported a fresh black eye, another had a puffy cheek. Each one carried their batons in front of them. Doctor Malachai said a quick word to the nearest officer, and he called to the rest of the men to hold their positions until given an order.

With that, Doctor Malachai patted Castiel's back and motioned with his arm to go ahead to Dean. He certainly didn't have to be told twice that he could see Dean. He didn't run, no- he had since forgotten that he could. Making his way to the room, he bypassed the officer with the black eye and heard him huff something out of the corner of his mouth. He tried not to think about the way that it sounded like 'freak'.

There he was- the once so powerful man now shackled helplessly to the bed by wrists and ankles. He wasn't wearing a belt anymore, and his shoes were gone. The officers outside held their ground a little too well it seemed. Even from afar, Castiel could see a long gash at Dean's hairline, small stitches already done up. There was a long purpling bruise across his jaw, and his nose was obviously rebroken.

Timid steps carried him to the foot of the bed, a shaky hand reached out to the leg nearest him. There was a deep purple bruise there as well, as Castiel could only see one of the officers kicking Dean's legs out from under him to control him. It wasn't that long ago that these legs were entwined with his, resting under a blanket in the front seat of the Impala.

Trailing his slender fingers up Dean's leg, over his stomach to his chest, and to his jaw- Dean didn't move. He was breathing, but he wasn't moving. "Why isn't he moving?" He wasn't even sure who he was asking, maybe just himself. But the voice of Doctor Malachai behind him answered.

"Even after he promised to not be a bother, he wouldn't calm down. We gave him a sedative. His brother is awake and alert, but Dean here- well, Dean couldn't hold his temper." Castiel curled his fingers under Dean's jaw as the doctor spoke, listening but not really hearing the words that were being spoken. Dean fought for him.

"That's because it took a long time between when you said he could see me to when you delivered me. He doesn't like people backing out on promises." With the rails on the bed up so that Dean could be cuffed to them, he couldn't sit on the bed next to him.

"He should actually be waking up here pretty quickly. We didn't give him a large dose, just enough to put him down for about an hour. The hour mark is up in just a few minutes." Castiel let those last few words trickle into his subconscious as he ran his fingers through Dean's hair. It still felt the same, how strange. He didn't think the hospital would change the way his hair was, but he didn't expect it to feel like it did back at the cabin. Everything is just so different; he sure was glad that Dean stayed the same.

There was for a moment, just the slightest of movements that came from the tips of Dean's fingers. Seeing it, Castiel wrapped that hand in his own, holding it as well as he could while Dean was still handcuffed to the railing of the bed. Another twitch of the fingers and then a slow roll of his head gave Castiel the recognition that Dean was finally starting to wake up.

A low moan escaped his lips, eyelids fluttering, and then- "Dean! Stop!" He had jerked awake, flinging himself against the metal cuffs that bound him. Already his wrists were raw from before, and now he was just cutting them deeper. But as soon as he heard Castiel's voice, that voice which he had fallen asleep to countless times, he paused his actions. Those green eyes, filled with anger and hatred softened as he turned to Castiel.

"Cas?" He sat up as best he could in the bed, begging to be closer. Leaning down to meet him halfway, Castiel brushed his lips to Dean's cheek.

"Hey." They both let out a soft chuckle at the simplicity of that word- the normality. There was nothing normal about any of this, but to the men who had forgotten the rest of the world, everything was perfect.

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_They lay together beneath the soft cotton sheets, just enjoying having the other with them. Castiel wove his fingers through Dean's over and over, familiarizing himself with the already memorized planes of his hands. While he studied those hands with his own, he couldn't help but be entranced by his eyes. That seemed to happen every time they came together in this way. It was just such an easy thing to get lost in._

_"Castiel, we should probably get dressed. The movie starts in an hour." Dean, however, made no advancements to get out of bed, to be away from the younger man. It was another couple minutes of silence, of being in that moment only, before Dean spoke again. "Seriously, we need to get up and get dressed." They pushed up from the bed, feeling a shiver go down their spine as they hit the colder air of the room._

_It was Castiel that got to the closet first this time, and he pulled out his favorite shirt- the old Metallica one that Dean had worn last night. It still smelled of him, and though it was large, it was a perfect fit. The faded logo, the holes near the bottom of the shirt, were why it was his favorite. It was entirely Dean's._

_They slowly got dressed, each of them stealing kisses as they went along. They slipped into jeans, and threw pairs of socks at each other before they finally put some on. They made their way slowly to the kitchen where they had a quick meal of PB &J's. Dean liked the strawberry jelly, and Castiel liked the grape. They stopped eating when Sam entered the kitchen- he thought that PB&J's were disgusting. Castiel just laughed it off as Sam gave them a dirty look as he grabbed his premade salad from the fridge and retreated back to his room/library._

_"Ok, let's grab a blanket or two from the closet and let's get going." They found their way to the linen closet near the bathroom and pulled out a blanket each. Castiel wrapped his around his neck like a workout towel, while Dean just held his under his arm. They slipped their shoes on and stepped out into the receding light of 6:30 at night, and into the Impala._

_It had been a long time since Castiel was in a car, let alone the front seat of one. It felt odd to him. Usually, he felt the bumps and potholes of a road very severely because he was always in the trunk. This time though he felt the roar of the engine, the powerful hum of the car. He had already heard the spiel of how Dean came to acquire the car._

_His dad had been a drunk when he started teaching the boys the 'skill' of hunting. They had this old car in the impound lot at Bobby's place because it was such an easy to spot car once they were noticed as being killers. But once Dear Old Dad had drunk himself into a stupor one night and used the bullets that he reserved for 'monsters' and removed himself from their lives forever, Dean had inherited the car._

_He even knew the details of this car just about as well as Dean did. It was a 1967 Chevrolet Impala, with a modified V8 327 4 Barrel, 275bhp engine with a two-speed transmission. Custom rims that Bobby had fixed up for John, Dean and Sam's dad, before he went all murderous and kill happy._

_The last time he rode in the cab of the Impala was towards the end of the winter months. They had all gone to the local high school to watch the kids play football. Of course, they had shown up late to the game, parked away from the school, and stood by the fence to watch, but they were at the game nonetheless. The local team won 27-15 against a team from Haxtun._

_But those memories faded from his thought as Dean pulled out into the waning light that dotted the dirt road that had claimed as theirs. They turned on roads that didn't have signs and even got lost because they had chosen the wrong unnamed road. Eventually, though they found their way back. Taking the long way to bypass the quote-en-quote crowded Main Street of the town (which Castiel never did see), they wound their way through to the drive-in. By the time they got there, the sky had turned to an inky blue-black color, just the western horizon a faded pink and orange glow._

_There wasn't anybody at the till for tickets or anything so they just drove right on towards the back. Making sure to keep their heads down, should anyone look at the monster of a classic car 'sneaking' into the very last row of the theatre. Cars trickled in over the next ten minutes or so, and they only had one car park a few spots away from them. Castiel reached into the back seat and pulled their blankets up to the front seat._

_Soon, the speakers outside of their windows started playing so Dean rolled down his window just a little bit._

_"Thank you for choosing Starlite Drive-in Theatre! Your movie will begin in ten minutes. Please keep in mind to be respectful of those around you. Please turn your radio to station 734.9 FM in order to hear the movie. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the show!"_

_Castiel chuckled at the overly cheery voice that seeped from the sound box. Dean rolled the window back up and began searching through the radio stations in order to find the station. When they found it, it was just spewing ads for the local shops. Turning the volume down a bit, the two got into a comfy position. That meaning Castiel curled himself into the arms of Dean, settling himself into his chest._

_As Dean's arms wrapped around him, Castiel actually felt like this is what life was supposed to be like. He thought back to before Dean, and couldn't remember ever feeling like this. Finally, he had a true word for what this was. Love._

_Castiel relaxed as he felt Dean's arms fall into a more comfortable position. He sighed when he felt Dean place a single kiss to the top of his head. That was certainly a first, but he hoped that it wasn't the last time. They didn't talk as they waited for the movie to start. Instead, they enjoyed the silence that neither of them wanted to break. It was calming, being away from their little cabin in a cornfield._

_Soon the ads stopped playing, and for a moment there was static. Then finally the picture started rolling on the big screen. Though Castiel had never seen this movie before, he couldn't really help but not pay attention to it. After all, one, it was black and white. He always found it hard to focus on something black and white. Secondly, Dean was absentmindedly rubbing his thumbs across Castiel's arms. That was much more a distraction than anything else. They were about twenty minutes into it when Castiel remembered a promise Dean had made._

_"Hey, you said that you were going to get a candy or popcorn or something. Aren't we going to get some?" He turned his head a little farther around to look at Dean. Sharp whites from the screen made the contours of his face deepen, giving him a hollow sort of look. His eyes, however, were darkened by shadows, giving them a completely black sort of look. But when he glanced down at Castiel, who had slid down farther into the seat, they were green again._

_"Yeah, I'll go get you something. Popcorn, right?"_

_"And a little candy if you can. Please." Dean gave a soft smile and nodded. Castiel pushed himself back up to sit on his own and watched Dean quietly climb out of the car. Wrapping himself tighter in his blanket, Castiel sat back to watch a few more minutes of the movie- then it hit him. Stealing a glance at the car door, he remembered why he was with Dean, who Dean was. He was alone in a car, with the keys in the cupholder. He knew how to drive, he had even tried escaping in a car once, but he didn't make it too far with two flat tires._

_Shrouded by the shadows, Castiel reached for the keys. They were so light. Silver and brass, they jingled like sleigh bells. Looking up from the keys, he saw the ignition. He was so close to it. He could put the keys in the ignition, start this beast of a car, and drive away. Dean would be stranded in this public place, and Castiel would be free. He had blankets, and he was sure that there was a toolbox in the back seat- if that wasn't what the clanking was while they were driving, then they were handcuffs and chains._

_Stealing a quick look out of the window, he saw Dean over at the concession stand. The lights were dimmed so as not to disturb the movie goers, so Dean was well hidden. Looking back to the ignition, Castiel slowly brought his hand up, keys and all, to it. It would be so simple. Just turn the key, put the car in reverse, and you'll be free._

_The taste of freedom on his lips should have been addicting, not acidic. He could actually see himself driving away from all of this nonsense, back to his family- wherever they were at this point. Then how come he couldn't bring himself to turn the car on? Frowning in concentration, he stared at the ignition. It was so close- freedom was so close. Yet he let the keys fall from his hand, back into the cupholder where they were before._

_He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, groaning at his own incompetence of not being able to pull himself away from this. As he sat back in the seat, he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye, outside of the driver's side window. The concession stand was past the passenger side, and Dean wasn't back yet..._

_A young woman, maybe in her late twenties, had just waved to him. Her ruby red lips glinted as a flash of light from the screen illuminated the parking lot. He smiled back, tentatively waving back to her. When she beckoned him with a single finger, he shook his head. That would be going too far. It was one thing to drive away in a car and not be able to be caught by Dean, it was an entirely different matter to be within running distance of the man. Her face fell a little bit, and she turned to look at something in her car. Her face lit up blue, so she must have been looking at her phone._

_There was another girl in the car but she wasn't paying attention to what was going on. In the backseat were another set of girls. Out for a night on the town, obviously. When he looked back to the girl with the red lips, she had her phone pressed against the window. He glanced behind him quickly, and saw that Dean was starting to make his way back to the car, popcorn in one hand, drink in the other, and a few candy bars sticking up out of his coat pocket._

_The picture on the phone she held up was almost too far away to see. When he squinted to see it a little better though, he almost screamed. A picture of him, four years ago, with the word_ _MISSING_ _written at the top of the photo. She pointed to him, and shrugged her shoulders as a 'is this you' kind of action. Hastily he shook his head no, and sat back in his seat. Glancing out of the window, he let out the breath he was holding as he saw Dean returning with a popcorn in one hand, a soda in the other, and a few candy bars sticking up out of his jacket pockets._

_Dean returned to the car, knocking on the window with an elbow to get Cas to open the door for him, and Castiel jumping in shock at the sudden sound. Then he slid in and passed the popcorn over to Castiel so that he could close the door. Dean passed the candy over as well and put the drink in the other cupholder that wasn't occupied by car keys._

_"So, did I miss anything from the movie?" Castiel snuggled into Dean, wrapping their blanket over his legs._

_"No, nothing much." They fell into an easy silence and laughed at the rest of the movie. It was supposed to be a scary movie but honestly, most 'scary' movies from the '50s were never actually scary. As the movie came to a close, the two didn't move from their spots._

_Why would they want to move away from this small moment of bliss? Who would want to back away from a single moment in which they didn't have to run away when they've been running for so long? It was a beautiful simplicity that they were surrounded by. Dean leaned over for a quick brush of lips before pulling away and putting the car in drive._

_Making sure as to not be the last to leave- because that would be suspicious- they wound their way through the throngs of cars all pressing to leave out of the single-car exit. Of course, they did get a few looks due to the roaring power of their car, it was attention that they could handle. They wore the darkness as a cloak, hidden within the crowd, invisible to those who tried to see who they were._

_The drive home didn't feel quite as long as Castiel figured it would. No music played, but the silence was filled with happiness, contentment, and tranquility. They didn't have to fill the silence for it was already filled with golden hues of calm. When they finally got back to the house- no longer a cabin in Cas' mind- they parked, and strolled inside, hand in hand. Sam was sitting in the kitchen with a cup of tea and the newspaper, a new habit of his before he went to bed. He lifted a hand as a quick hello before turning the page and continuing his reading._

_The duo made their way past the kitchen and up the stairs. They moved with well-rehearsed fluidity. To the bedroom, taking off their day clothes and slipping into pajamas, pulling back the covers, crawling under them. While they shared a bed for so long, it only began a few days ago that Dean would wrap his arm around Cas' waist, pulling him close. Castiel would turn towards Dean, burying his head into Dean's chest, breathing in the lingering smell of the day. Usually, it was the smell of leather and whiskey, sometimes the metallic smell of a gun if he had been out hunting._

_Today though, he smelled of popcorn and candy- skittles mostly._

_Castiel listened to Dean's breathing grow deep, slowing down as he fell asleep. Cas, with his head resting so close to Dean's heart, heard it even out and relax. He did his best to match his breathing to Dean's, doing his best to relax. But every time he closed his eyes, he was brought back to the image of the girl from the other car, making the assumption- as correct as it may have been- that he was the guy kidnapped by the most dangerous killers the world has ever seen. Finally though, after an hour of staring at her porcelain face, he is finally able to slip into a restless sleep. He tossed and turned in the night, finally calmed by Dean's soothing arm pulling him back towards him._

_His dream though woke him up. A person dressed in what looked to be SWAT gear burst into his room, pointing guns at his and Dean's head._

_Who knew that dreams could be so vivid? It truly felt as though the house was being invaded by these alien creatures in black suits, strange heads with no eyes, no mouths._

_The vivid dream became all too real however when one of the creatures cocked its gun and started yelling. "GET THE FUCK UP! HANDS UP WHERE I CAN SEE THEM! I HAVE ORDERS TO SHOOT AND KILL!"_

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	6. Made Of Stone

The normality of the words they spoke countered the strange situation they were in. For once Dean was the one bound, and Castiel roamed free. That, however, didn't bother the duo- no, Castiel was quite content to sit by Dean's side, holding his hand within his own, and ignoring the pointed stares of the officers that surrounded them.

It wasn't the cops' fault that Castiel wanted to be with him. It may have been odd, there's no way that anybody could have predicted this. Predicted that the prey would fall in love with the predator that's been keeping him captive for so long. There couldn't have been a stranger sight to those looking in from the outside- a broken and beaten man, still with bruises along his ribs, clutching onto the hand of a man handcuffed to a hospital bed. Would people know what they had gone through?

Of course, it was Dean Winchester. Everyone knew the name, the face. They knew that crooked nose that had been broken by John when Dean was only 13. They knew the green eyes that no longer swam with light, but were cast in shadows to match the heavy bags that he carried under those eyes. They knew the smile that captured the hearts of those unwilling to be teased by the wild man. The wild man that they now knew was to be trapped in a cage for the rest of eternity.

Sam wouldn't be able to handle solitary confinement. Not without books anyways. Dean would be better equipped. He could flirt with the guards, and make shitty jokes about his situation. There was one thought, however, that danced through the back of Castiel's mind, that he really didn't want to bring up. No intention to. At all. Yet there it was.  _Would I ever be able to even see him again?_

Dean must have sensed Castiel fading, for he squeezed at his hand gently. "Hey, don't you leave me yet. I'm still here." His voice shook with the effort of talking, and there was a slight slur to his words. Drugs. Heavy drugs. No wonder he wasn't truly fighting against the cuffs. But as he spoke, a soft smile played on his chapped lips.

"I'm not going anywhere. Not yet." The guards in the room must have been ordered to stay quiet about the interactions that would happen, as they merely shuffled awkwardly as the two spoke, but never uttered a sound. It was a relief to Castiel that they had to remain quiet. He had lived in near isolation for so long, hearing more than two voices at any time was overwhelming. Sitting in the back of the cop car was rough. The driver had been talking over the radio with other people from the scene, all of them talking and asking questions and answering those questions and asking more questions and mumbling things and sniffing because they had colds and asking how fast he was driving and- there was another squeeze. Dean brought him back once again. Yeah, this whole being back in the real world was tough.

Surely he should be better suited to this life, right? He had lived in a normal world for so long before these two lunatics came along and changed everything. He still wasn't sure if it was for the better or worse that things had changed, he just knew that it was he himself that had changed along with his environment. Castiel took the moment to totally look at Dean, to assess what had happened to him.

There was a cuff on each wrist, holding him to the bed, and a cuff on each ankle doing the same. He no longer wore his sweats, but was fashioned in a hospital gown that would have made Sam chuckle. Though in that case, Sam was probably wearing one too. Angry red lines darted out from under the cuffs, indicating that Dean hadn't always been drugged up. Nope, as always, he had fought. By the way that there was some blood down by his ankles on the sheet, he had fought against them pretty hard. The doctors obviously didn't think of him as much of a human though because they didn't bandage up the wounds.

There was an IV sticking out of his left arm, just above the wrist. There was a sufficient amount of tape on it, and knowing Dean, he had probably ripped out earlier needles with his teeth. The man was absolutely crazy sometimes. A neat wad of gauze was located just under his hairline at the back of his head, something that hadn't been noticed before.

"Dean, what happened?" He reached up gently to touch it but recoiled quickly as Dean flinched. So did all of the guards in the room. Their hands were instantly on their weapons, shoulders forward, ready to pounce on the already chained tiger.

"Easy fellas. You can relax." The tension that had filled the hair still hung there, static electricity flowing through everyone. "The cops really did a number on me after they loaded you up and sent you on your way. They wanted you out of range when they started attacking us. Had to make sure that the prey was safely tucked away before the predator could be dealt with. Right?" He chuckled darkly, eyes sweeping across the alert faces of the guards in the room. "Sam was a good kid though, didn't do anything stupid. He knew that we were done, but I just couldn't admit it." He licked at his lips, trying to soothe the cracks that had formed and split. Were those new, or were those from months ago?

"I can't believe they did that to you."

"No, no, no. Don't worry about it. You just worry about yourself. Put a little meat back on those bones now that you have access to food." There was that dark chuckle again. Castiel dropped his head, knowing that what Dean said was true. He had been starved for so long, he didn't know that he was hungry. He could feel it though.

He felt his muscles quake each time he stood, and his stomach reached for the basket of oranges that he had seen near the nurse's station. Angry claws of desperation forced their way out of him every time he thought of a burger or even a salad. Though the only sustenance that he craved for at this moment in frozen time, was a soothing hand of Dean's, running his fingers through his hair.

That want though was quickly forgotten as he passed his hand over the metal handcuff that encased Dean's wrist. This was real life now. Dean was actually cuffed to a hospital bed surrounded by policemen and SWAT people. Dean wasn't able to touch him. He could touch Dean, but he didn't have to. That split second thought returned, again and again.  _He didn't have to. He didn't have to. He didn't HAVE to._ As quickly as that thought infiltrated his mind, swirling around like a brew in a witch's cauldron, he pulled his hand away. He stopped rubbing his fingers over Dean's smooth knuckles, and calloused pads of his hand.

He felt his own fingers. Waiflike thin. Brittle. As though one too-hard handshake would break them, turn them to dust. Holding his hand up in front of him, he stared at the veins that he could see on the back of his hand. A spiderweb of interlocking veins and capillaries, visibly pulsating with each tremoring beat of his heart. A heart once sworn solemnly to the murderer handcuffed to a metal bed rail. A heart that shivered in fear when he glanced over at that emerald eyed man- who was now staring back.

Shadows danced over his finely detailed face. Each freckle disappearing as a heavy cloud of darkness enveloped the chained criminal. That look wasn't unfamiliar, no. But it had been a while since Castiel had been face-to-face with it. His already trembling heart jumped. Had Dean finally figured out that he was free? That he was no longer a captive?

It felt like so long ago- and yesterday at the same time- that they had been in the Impala, watching that cheesy horror movie. How had he not known that he was so unfairly thin? Did he realize that he was cold then, or was that the reason Dean had wrapped blankets around them? These questions pounded in his head, thrashing, and fighting, and screaming to get out. Screaming for HIM to get out. But he couldn't. He was held by the fear of what may happen.

What could happen though? He was free, while Dean was cuffed to a bed, surrounded by policemen. If only he had loopy drugs pumping through him however, would Cas ever feel safe. But he couldn't just leave. After all this time it still didn't feel right leaving Dean alone with these wolves. He had spent too long as a guard dog, listening for sirens that never came, hoping for the knock on the door that never happened. As much as he had been protecting himself all those years, he never stopped thinking of the man who stole him in the night.

There were awkwardly cast glances from a few of the surrounding guards, unsure whether to do or say something or to just stay quiet. When Castiel returned his hand to Dean's though, refusing to touch the metal cuff, the glances stopped. He was free to do as he pleased in this room, as long as Dean's freedom wasn't involved. No. Now that Dean was caught, and caught for good, he would probably never see the light of day again. There wasn't anything anyone- Sam and Dean included- could do to set these men free.

Could they be considered men anymore? Or were they just monsters? Murderers? Convicts? They were all of these, but human first and foremost. Castiel remembered the days when Dean would wake up from nightmares, soaked with sweat. He would be screaming about monsters in the night. Werewolves, and vampires, and ghosts. Then there were the obscure ones that he had to ask Sam about later. Sometimes they even had to look them up. Kitsune, Windigo, Shojo. They got really weird sometimes.

He remembered the days when he would be chained to the foot of the bed, or the water heater across the room, and be forced to listen to the screams and travesties of Dean's nightmares as they took hold of him, not allowed to wake him for fear of punishment. He would sit there, feeling the dread penetrate the room in which he sat, the smell of wrath and hatred filling his nostrils.

He remembered knowing that at any moment, should Dean awake with murder in his eyes, that he shall be the first to be punished for what is not his to control. The times in which he was- as always- unfairly beaten into submission, thrown into terror as far as Dean could kick, as hard as he could throw stones.

As easily as he had fallen into the trance of remembering the horrors of the early days, did he snap out of it. They were men. Had always been human. They were nothing short of real, despite their seemingly fictitious reputation.

Carefully, with hesitation floating about him like a cloak, Castiel removed his hand from Dean. He removed his arm from the crisp white sheets. He removed himself from the hard metal chair. He removed himself from the room. A mechanical system of thought overtook him, telling him what to do, each and every step that he took. If Dean called out for him, and if the guards had silenced Dean, he didn't hear it. His body removed hearing from itself. His body removed touch from itself. His body removed itself from the situation that it no longer had to be in, and the senses that were so heavily involved.

A doctor, perhaps a nurse, led him back to his the room where he was before. They passed the bowl of oranges on the way back, and his stomach rumbled in response to the treat that taunted and haunted him as he passed by, refusing to grab it. He wasn't allowed to grab food that wasn't his. It was in him now to think that should he, even attempt to, grab food that wasn't his he would be punished. That's how Sam and Dean were still so filled out while Castiel had grown thinner and thinner through the years. He never starved, no, but they refused to let him gain strength.

It had become survival to ignore what was around him. If he saw food he shied away, if he noticed something out of place he would cower. So, he just stopped looking. 

She led him back to his room, and let him get settled on the bed before coming over to him. "Hey, Castiel. I'm nurse Enid. I am going to check in on you every little while to see how you are holding up, to bring you stuff to eat and things to do, ok?" Castiel noticed her teeth. They were short, and not very straight, but they were white. It made him question the last time that he had brushed his own teeth. There was a mole on the left- no, his left, her right- side of her chin. It was little, more of a large freckle than anything. "-so I grabbed it for you as we passed."

He looked up. There was an orange in front of him. Nurse Enid was holding it out for him. He nodded quietly, with thoughts of all shapes and colors decorating his overwhelmed mind. She smiled, those crooked teeth glinting in the false light, and she walked out of the room, placing the orange on the table as she passed. The door shut with a muted click, and he was alone.

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_"GET THE FUCK UP! HANDS UP WHERE I CAN SEE THEM! I HAVE ORDERS TO SHOOT AND KILL!" Castiel froze, though he trembled with fear. This wasn't a dream. This wasn't a movie or a book. This was real life. He was really looking down the barrel of a sniper rifle. Dean was frozen too, though he seemed to be made of stone. He was steady, as always, and provided support for Castiel's loose and wandering thoughts._

_"I SAID, 'GET UP'!" The person in all black- what seemed to be riot gear- jolted the rifle towards them, sending Castiel to flinch. It was then that Castiel noticed Dean raising his hands above his head. It was a slow and methodical movement, one practiced time and time again. The darkness of the early morning- for Castiel saw the flashing of their clock reading 2:34- hid the soft parts of Dean, and exposed the ridged side of him. All sharp angles, all valleys of cuts, and raised mountains of muscle. Castiel followed his lead: hands up, stoic look on his face._

_He followed in his captors lead of sinking to the ground next to the bed. As soon as Dean's knee hit the floor, three of the guys in riot gear surrounded him. There was a dull thud as Castiel watched Dean's head get thrown to the ground. A guttural sound escaped that pretty throat of his, growling in annoyance at being treated like the animal he so often acted like._

_As for Castiel, it was nothing short of pure terror as he too was surrounded by these men. As soon as they took one fluid step forward, he flung himself to the ground, curling into the fetal position, and tucking his back up against the side of the bed. Incomprehensible shouts came from down the hallway, and he knew that Sam was taken too. That notion- that his little brother was taken- turned Dean into the monster that Castiel had once seen him as. He thrashed and he kicked, he did his best to escape from the cuffs that were now on his wrists._

_One of the SWAT members had hoisted Castiel up by the collar of his shirt just in time for him to see another officer, on the other side of the bed, bring a baton down on Dean's thrashing head. He didn't remember screaming, but he remembered hearing the sound of his own voice, calling Dean's name as his entire body went limp._

_The man holding Castiel's collar gave him a hard shake, gaining his attention. That shake though was nothing more than him shifting his weight, and in the following instant, Castiel felt his body being thrown to the ground. His bones rattled as he collided with the hardwood floor, and his head bounced as though it were rubber. He felt the warm rush of blood running from his nose, and tasted iron in his mouth. "Shut up!" The man who had slammed him to the ground yelled._

_Through blurry vision, Castiel looked to the feet of the men around him. Through the shuffling of black boots, it seemed as though another officer pushed the offending, and yelling, officer away. With muffled hearing, Castiel heard them shouting._

_"Robinette! This guy isn't a threat! Leave him!"_

_"He wasn't following orders, O'Donnell."_

_"He's terrified, and we just knocked out the guy who has been keeping him hostage for four years. He ain't going to listen to your orders when he is scared out of his mind!"_

_"But O'Donnell-"_

_"No 'but's' in this situation. I am superior in this situation. Take your gear and exit the premises. Let those outside know what is going on inside. You are not to have contact with this man ever again. Do you understand?"_

_"Yes, sir." He hissed those last words out, and Castiel could finally truly hear again. The boots of the superior officer came closer, and Castiel pulled his head as close to his body as he could- chin to chest. He shook in fear, anticipating the worst. When boots got too close to his head, the usually ended up started kicking._

_The boots came close, but they stopped. Then the boots turned on their sides and the man in the boots sat down next to Castiel's head. "Son, it's alright. I'm not gonna hurt you." A hand reached for Castiel's shoulder, and he pulled back quickly, his shoulder slamming into the wooden bed frame. He didn't call out, didn't make a sound. When they were beating him, sound drove them on. The more sound that you made, the more they would kick and hit and beat. So he didn't speak. Didn't moan or groan, even though his shoulder now had its own heartbeat._

_The sound of blood rushing through his ears was deafening, but it wasn't enough to mute the sounds from the other side of the bed- Dean had become conscious again, and was calling for Castiel. "What did you do to him?! Cas! CAS!"_

_"Shut the fuck up!" There was a solid thwack and another hard thud. It was at that moment that the officer that sat next to Castiel spoke up._

_"Leave him alone! If he ain't fighting, don't beat him. Hold him until we get this guy up and moving." The other men on the opposite sides of the bed stopped moving, and Dean's heavy pants filled the air, his moans- no longer of ecstasy- gurgled up from his windpipe._

_"Cas-" Dean called, his voice broken and beaten. "D-don't hurt him." Castiel quivered, anticipating the officer's hand to come at him again because of Dean's outburst. It did, but not harshly. More of a 'let the scared dog sniff your hand before you pet it' kind of extension was given to Castiel. And sniff he did- in his own way of course. He glanced up at the hand near him, and followed up the long arm, and finally to the face of a wizened man. Grey eyes matched the tone of the situation that everyone was in, yet they were happier than most._

_It took Castiel a moment to realize that nothing was going to happen to him, and finally unlaced his fingers from the back of his neck. He gave one slender hand to the awaiting officer, who helped to pull him to his feet. He still wore Dean's pajamas. Those sweatpants still hung low on his hips. And Dean, as fight-filled as ever- had a baton shoved between his teeth so as he wouldn't bite anyone near him. His hands were bound behind his back, and there were two rifles pointed at him. His eyes though told the real story._

_Castiel watched pulses of anger go through Dean, turning those golden-green eyes black again and again and again. They watered with anger and pain. Great heaving breaths forced their way through his nostrils, for the weapon stuck between his savage teeth disallowed him to breathe well. Tendrils of saliva were already cascading down the sides of the baton, down his chin, and several bite marks were visible in the black painted wood where he had chomped down, time after time, doing his best to rid himself of the weapon._

_Low growls emanated from that upright throat, the one that had been so keen to please his hostage. His adam's apple bounced as he tried to swallow, but to no avail. The great artery on the side of his neck visibly pulsated, quickened with the state of anger he was in. Yet still, the moment that he laid his watery eyes on Castiel did he stop. He stopped everything. He stopped fighting the wooden bit in his mouth, and stopped fighting the hands that held him down. He merely lifted himself as far as he could onto his knees, doing his best to get closer to the man who had shared his bed with._

_Castiel pleaded in his mind's eye to be released from the hands of the officer behind him, to join Dean on the floor, to wipe the spit that hung from his mouth like a rabid dog. For that was what he was. An animal, a great beast who had taken charge of weak prey, kept him for a pet of his own morbid humor. And still, knowledge of what has happened in the past, every whipping and beating prevalent in every scar on his arms and face, did he drop to his knees in front of the bound and gagged man. He dropped to his knees in one last chance to worship the ground that this monster trod upon._

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There was nothing to hear in this room, nothing to distract his wandering mind. There was the orange on the stainless steel table, but he didn't want it. Ok, yes he did, but it wasn't his. Yes, it was, but it really wasn't. He smacked himself on the cheek to regain control of the thoughts that were spinning around in his head, making himself dizzy. The room spun after the smack. A steady throb erupted on his cheek, and out of habit, he rubbed at the sore spot. The difference, this time, is that he had caused the pain himself.

The movement of his hand was caught on the outskirts of his vision, and he drew his hand away, to look at it one more time. He knew that he was thin, but he hadn't realized how bad it had gotten. Dean had lulled him into a false sense of security- though what a joke that phrase was considering the situation that it was describing. He had been forced to believe that he wasn't starved. He had been forced to believe that he wasn't starved, that he wasn't empty of everything. He had been forced to believe that where he was, was safe. That where he was, was home.

For a small moment in time- forever an eternity with them- did he fall into their words; he fell into the cushion of comfort that they provided. Those words though, that had once cradled him, had razors attached to them. Cuts and nicks, pieces of flesh missing, Castiel felt those words both destroy and heal. Still, away from the biting words and the men who destroyed lives more valuable than his, did they tear into him, rip him to shreds.

That stupid orange! So close, and still so far away. How soon would it be before he knew that he would be able to eat without being punished? Tomorrow? Tonight? In two years? Who knew? He certainly didn't, but the more that he stared at that God-forsaken orange, the more he wanted it, craved it, begged for it. Yet the scars on his wrist from the shackles he once wore weighed him down, unable to move from his spot.


End file.
